


Casualties of a War Left Behind

by Wintercameandwent



Series: Living with Regret of the Chance Not Taken [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't Like Don't Read, Elia Martell Lives, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jon Snow's Name is Jaehaerys, Lyanna Stark Lives, Ned Stark is a widow, No character bashing, Not always Rhaegar and Lyanna friendly, Out of Character, POV Multiple, Rhaegar Targaryen Lives, miscarriage (implied/referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 131,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22906573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintercameandwent/pseuds/Wintercameandwent
Summary: The realm is preparing for Princess Rhaenys Targaryen's marriage to Robb Stark.As the couple gets closer to their wedding day the past causes long buried secrets to rise and sons to follow in their father's footsteps. The royal house is in discord and the wrong choices could destroy the delicate peace between Rhaegar's two families and the realm.EDIT: I added three more chapters bring the total up to 14...let us see if I can stay within that limit...lol. (3/10/20)EDIT: I lied...we are up to 17...ugh! (3/15/20)
Relationships: Aegon Targaryen/Original Female Character(s), Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark (past), Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen (mentioned), Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen (mentioned), Margaery Tyrell/Original Male Character(s), Renly Baratheon/Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)
Series: Living with Regret of the Chance Not Taken [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591549
Comments: 524
Kudos: 246
Collections: Southern Renaissance (Dorne Renaissance)





	1. Beginnings Are Always Messy

**Author's Note:**

> This story will probably make more sense if you were to read the earlier parts to the series, but you might be able to get through it without...if you are willing to accept that you might be missing some piece of information...lol.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. This is just a fun creative release.
> 
> EDIT: I added two more chapters bring the total up to 13...let us see if I can stay within that limit...lol.

The Lord of Dragonshield placed a letter recently received by raven, into the hands of his niece Rhaenys Targaryen. The young woman broke the seal in front of him, his wife, and her siblings. Her eyes desperately searching for what it was she needed to see. A brilliant smile broke her face, as she jumped into her sister’s arms. 

“Father said yes to the betrothal.”

*****

Lady Baratheon was heavy with child, so heavy that the experienced midwife claimed she carries two. At six moons along, she wonders how much larger she can become. She didn’t realize she asked that question out loud until she heard her Aemon’s burst of laughter and her mother’s admonishment. Her eyes are drawn to her husband as he enters the sitting room with something in his hand. He forwards three letters to each Targaryen in the room. They exchanged confused looks, and in unspoken unison they broke the seals to read the content.

A gasp.

An exhalation.

A snort.

“Well it seems the Starks are going to finally get a Targaryen Princess, as promised long ago.” Aemon japes.

*****

A note with good news was passed, bringing a concealed sadness to her daughter’s eyes. Though the Dornish look at bastardy differently, her daughter’s chance of marrying the one she love is forever gone to her, just as marrying her true love had long left her, and this letter that speaks of upcoming nuptials serves to salt a perpetually open wound.

“They will return to Dorne before the wedding and wish to spend time with us here, with the invitation that we travel to the Water Gardens for a short time before returning to Kings Landing for the wedding.” Lia’s voice was measured, and showed only the emotion she wished others to hear. “What an honor?”

Ashara reached out to turn her daughter’s face to her own. The tears she expected to see crested in her daughter’s eyes were there, it was a punch to her core to witness such a sight that it surprised Ashara. After so long, she should be better at bracing herself for the shock of it...of the sadness being a high-born bastard has cost her child. 

“Yes it is, my Summer Wolf.” Ashara gathered her daughter into her arms as the young woman cried quietly into her mother’s shoulder.

*****

He held the letter in his hand. The words in print. The evidence that he had willingly agreed to treat with the Crown. A practical man he had always been, with the exception of one time when he loved a woman in a way he should not have allowed his heart and body to. The change in his usual personality is uncharacteristic of him, but when he watched his son with the dark-haired princess he could see himself standing before another Dornish beauty, and in that moment Eddard Stark swore his own son would not be denied his heart because of someone else’s folly.

As he watches his son receive congratulations from Arya, he couldn’t help to be drawn to the quiet hurt floating off of his oldest daughter. So, as he sent off his own letter to request Princess Rhaenys hand for his son, they had expected a letter in return from the King, and yet no word came. Rumor had reached the North that a Tyrell Rose was being considered for Prince Jaehaerys as Prince Aegon was expected to step away from his title, just as Duncan Targaryen had once done before. 

Though Ashara was his heart, Ned found a deep love with his wife Catelyn, and though they were not meant for each other they made it a point to try and love each other honestly. It was Catelyn’s idea, and a wise one it was for it gave him a good wife and his children a wonderful mother. They had eighteen years. He can only hope that if his daughter cannot marry the man of her choosing, as an exact replica of her mother, he prays that she is enough of her mother to be open to the opportunity to love another should it present itself. 

Armoring herself in courtesy, he observes as his daughter embraces her brother, wishing him the greatest happiness with his love.

*****

“I have an early wedding gift for you.”

A large ornate box is placed before her. She looks up to seek permission to open to lift the lid. A gentle nod gives her license to peek inside.

A petrified dragon egg, with a bronze, orange, and red shell streaked with a purple that looked almost black. A relic of their family’s past, rested cushioned on a velvet pillow.

“Viserys. This is extraordinary. Where did you find this?”

“About five years ago in Volantis. It seems some adventurous merchants found them in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai.”

“Five years...”

“The colors reminded me of you. I guess I should have known then about Visenya.” Her uncle tried to suppress a laugh. Her expression seemed to prompt him to respond. He walked over to a larger chest, and released the latch that kept the contents hidden from view. 

Rhaenys could not contain the gasps that forcefully left her body. Before her were two more dragon eggs; one egg was gold with streaks of white and indigo and the other egg was white covered in intricates lines of blood orange and violet.

“Do you believe in happenstance, niece?”

Their eyes met, and for a moment Rhaenys wondered if her uncle bestowed to her a gift or a curse.

*****

“My dearest Margaery! I am so happy you have come.” Daenerys tried to hug her friend as much as she could in her condition. A suggestion by her husband to invite Marg to their home seemed like a splendid idea as now she is about to go into seclusion till the end of the birth. She missed her friend and Loras would enjoy seeing his sister as well. A win she thought for them all.

“Lady Baratheon, I was going to asks if you’d be at the upcoming wedding of the Princess, but clearly you will not be up for such an endeavor.”

“The maester and midwife predict twins. I will be busy and in no condition to go. While not close to Rhaenys, I would have liked to return the favor of my attendance as she attended my ceremony so not long ago. But there is just no getting around...” she looks down at her large waistline, “...this.”

Playful laughter made her smile as she rose up to look at her friend. 

“I have heard a rumor that your own potential marriage to Jaehaerys might be put on hold...indefinitely.”

“Yes. Father has had a private conversation with the King and Lord Connington. It seems the two eldest princes are considering abdicating themselves from the line of succession. Yet they would not tell my father why, exactly. I just don’t know what that means for me Dany. I am the same age as you and I have yet to be a wife or a mother. I am getting too old to be consider a maiden much longer. Advance age only works in the favor of men, and works against us women. My value is fading the older I get.”

Daenerys felt for her friend. She had her own worries with waiting so long herself. She wishes she could tell Margaery that she had more time, but her own information about how long a woman can birth children is limited and not helpful in assuaging concern. Her own mother had three living children and countless miscarriages. Lyanna was unable to conceive again after Daeron, ending her ability at twenty. Elia had her last child at seven and twenty or was it eight and twenty. They were in the mid-year of their twenty-first year. 

“If my nephews plan to walk away from the duty of Crown Prince, then that leave Aemon next in line. I know you had prepared yourself for Jae, while open to losing that should Aegon be made to marry you instead. Have you spent much time with Aemon?"

Margaery lowered her eyes, her lower lip caught in her teeth. With a deep sigh she begins to tell Dany of her fears that Aemon would find her lacking; if both of his older brothers would rather forsake their duty than marry her. Marg’s quiet cries could not stop Dany from going to her friend. 

“It’s alright Marg. Aemon is not like his brothers. He would do his duty and marry you.”

“Do you really think so, Dany?” Her friends wet lashes tugged at Daenerys heart. 

“Yes. I do. Open yourself to the chance of it. Perhaps it is providence. You are here, and so his Aemon. Take this time to get to know him. Persuade him with your charms my love. I daresay he would not be able to resist you.” Handing her friend, a handkerchief to clear her tears, she pulls her friend towards her chaise and together they plan to bring her favorite Lady and her dearest nephew together.

*****

Ashara wraps her silk scarf closer about her. She leans against her daughter doorway, watching as Lia leaned over her balcony, a sad expression on her face, eyes looking at the stars.

Through the course of her life Ashara has had some regrets that she would like to wish away, but the choice to keep her daughter was not one of them. When she discovered she was with child all she could think of was how she would tell her lover. Then the darkness came when a war began and alliances needed to be made...and if she wanted her love to survive then she needed to let him go...and marry Catelyn Tully.

Living the life as a high-born lady with a bastard was not the life she had envisioned, but it has not been the hardship it could have been had she come from any other region in Westeros. Her brother Atticus, once Lord of Starfall, was not happy with the news but he had not shunned her. While the evidence of her past indiscretions were visible to all, he had loved his niece completely. A love that was reciprocated and still remains though he has long past died. 

As regent for her nephew Edric, Ashara knows she will always have a home here, but once Edric is almost of age she will be free to leave. Perhaps she’ll move closer to Queen Elia...an unspoken request she has deferred largely in part because of her daughter. While Oberyn’s paramour is very confident in her bastardy, Ashara’s daughter is not. The Court would look at her daughter and make her feel like a bastard...rather than the young lady she has always been treated as. 

There is also the issue of Aegon. The young Prince will have to marry. Elia has written to her regarding Rheagar’s proposal that Aegon marry Lady Margaery Tyrell. Elia raged that she will not let it come to pass. But Ashara reasons that one day he will marry. How could she bring her daughter to a place where she will be forced to see the man she loves live a wedded life with another. She couldn’t do it to Lia. Hells! It was something she avoided for herself by never returning to Kings Landing...or anywhere she could find herself in the company of her past love and his wife.

She could leave Lia here in her home, Edric loves her just as much as his father did, but she would miss her desperately. It would be different if they separated because of her daughter marrying, but Lia has not entertained many suitors. It’s not a lack of interest that is the issue. As a cousin, who is almost like a sister to the Lord of Starfall, a family well tied to the Martells, and a beauty in her own right...younger sons have formally requested to court her. A number that has increased since Aegon returned to Kings Landing, but Lia is not ready to let go of love gone. 

While her daughter seems adrift in whatever fantasy she had created in the sky, Ashara wonders if Lia might be her mother’s daughter. Will she forever love a man she cannot have, and take the child he might unknowingly give? If she is honest with herself, that is her true fear which keeps her here and away from putting temptation before her daughter.

*****

Ned Stark’s role as a father has never been an easy one. From the moment the war was over and he stood kneeling before Rhaegar Targaryen, in a castle that still held the faint hint of charred remains and blood; as his once beloved sister sat beside her husband, Ned knew that fatherhood for him would be a painful and somewhat limiting experience.

His punishment was not to take the Black like Stannis, no...it was to lose his sons. But perhaps, Rhaegar thought if he couldn’t keep his first son, then Ned must suffer that loss as well...in perpetuity. So, every son was gone at the age of eight, all gone to the South.

Robb to House Velaryon of Driftmark.

Brandon to House Selmy of Harvest Hall.

Rickon to House Rykker of Duskendale.

The only children he and Catelyn raised together in Winterfell, until her death from the Winter cough a little over three years ago, were their daughters. While he doesn’t always understand Robb, he does understand his girls. Vastly different from each other, they are the touchstones he searches for when misunderstanding between him and Robb arise. 

In this moment, he knows Sansa is hurting, she had her heart set on Jaehaerys. For years he and her mother told her that such a match could never be, and Sansa had unhappily accepted such truth. Many a young man have asked for her hand, but Ned could not choose one when she first lost her mother. 

After Cat’s death, Sansa became the Lady of Winterfell in her mother’s stead, and Ned found her too valuable to part with, but when Aegon returned and Jaehaerys approached him about his feelings towards his daughter. He asked if it would not offend Ned if Jae would spend some time with Sansa. 

The young prince feeling confident that his own father would relent on this matter as his brother would be named Crown Prince and therefore expected to marry a Rose from House Tyrell. Ned thought that perhaps the delay in wedding Sansa, a young woman who should already be married, was a sign from the Gods that perhaps this bit of goodness could come for his Red Wolf. 

Angry with himself more than anything else, he does not believe his nephew’s pursuit came out of malice...no, Jaehaerys’s may be Targaryen in name but Ned finds him to hold very Northern sensibilities. No, Jae came to him with honorable intentions, of that he has no doubt, but as much as he enjoys who his nephew is...the young man is still bound to a House that has been the cause of much pain for the Starks. Ned should have protected Sansa better, and for that he asks Cat for her forgiveness when he sits before the weirwood tree.

As his family prepares to return back South for the upcoming nuptials, Ned goes to receive an updated progress report from Sansa. The door to her mother’s solar is open, Ned spies her for a moment, she sits on the chair behind a writing desk. Her eyes staring into the flames rising in the hearth, the blueness of her eyes seemingly gone as though the vibrancy of her gaze was snuffed out. A common appearance he has observed when she is within moments of quiet reprieve from the demands of her station. 

While he tries to avoid it his gentle knock on the door make her jump in surprise. 

“Hello Father.” She stands as he walks into the room. He gestures for her to resume her seat. 

“No, sit my daughter. You look good there. A right place for a Lady of a strong House.” Sansa looks down with a deprecating smile. “One day you will find yourself in such a position in a home you will build with your future husband...when the time comes. He will be a blessed man indeed.” 

Sansa looks up to him, she bites her lower lip...the one habit Cat was never truly able to break in their _Lady Daughter _. “It is interesting that you have mentioned that. I was thinking it is time that I set aside my foolishness...for we both know I have been very foolish regarding Jaehaerys—”__

__“Sansa it is not foolish to find love. It is a rarity for people in our world.” Ned could sense where this conversation was going, and it saddened him, for many years ago he too was forced to make a decision to walk away from what he desperately wanted in order to do what was logical...practical...right. He knew what was to come because for all the ways she looked and acted like her mother, Ned found that Sansa was more like him than anyone could see. He saw it though...for like seeks out like._ _

__She smiled and took a deep swallow before continuing. “I may have many feelings for Jae. Much affection, but the truth is my brother and your heir is marrying and bringing his own wife to his home. This role that I have assumed after mother’s death, it’s not mine indefinitely. This role will belong to Robb’s wife, _as it should_.”_ _

__Ned watched as his daughter came around the desk, and kneeled before him, taking his hand into hers._ _

__“Perhaps it is time that you look at finding a match of my own. I could wed within the first year of their marriage. This would give Princess Rhaeneys someone to support her in the running of the Keep, for she is being thrusted into this role as I once was and it is a difficult transition. I could be that help for her. I am sure in time she will change things, but I think she would be a good match for Robb and for the North...and by then I would be married and ensconced in my new home as their future Lady.”_ _

__Sansa’s eyes beseech him to agree, and Ned found that he could not deny her. He also knew that marrying another...finding a different kind of love with a spouse when the power of a first love remains...doesn’t take away the sadness of losing your first love for duty. The father in him is unsure if he should speak on it, for he does not mean to discourage her, but he wants her to know that her feelings are not unique to just her...for he understands._ _

__Making a choice. He says, “I will stand by your choice to find you a husband if that is what you want, but before you decide to move forward with this let me tell you a story about a second son who once fell in love with a star.”_ _

____

*****

“So, what do you plan to do with a real dragon egg, Nys?” Visenya asked her sister as she carefully held the object in question in the palms of her hands.

“Honestly. I am not sure. I guess it might just be enough that I have a piece of our heritage with me as a memento since I am moving to Winterfell. There is very little Targaryen influence to be felt in the North, or that is what Robb has said when he spoke of his home.” Placing a dress into her traveling case, Rhaenys looks over at her sister with a soft smile on her face. 

Lowering the egg to her lap, Visneya sends her sister a sad smile, for while she is happy for Rhaenys, she’s never known a world where her sister wasn’t always there. Never had they ever been parted, and in a matter of months her oldest and only sister was set to marry and would depart for the North...and Visenya wonders how long it would be before they were reunited once again.

“Nys, you know I like Robb, right?” Visenya felt the need to state her piece and air her concerns, as she trusted her sister’s judgement, she just need the confirmation that Rhaenys has thought this marriage through.

“I do.” Sense a change in Visenya’s affect, Rhaenys sat beside her sister, her attention completely on Visenya. Such a penetrating stare her sister has. It has such power to make you feel comfortably warm, but then they are times when you can easily feel a scalding burn should you anger her. “Clearly there are words you need to say. Go ahead, say them now, Vissy.”

“I am truly happy that you are to be married. It seems to be what you want, and with a man you feel compatible with. However, I can’t help but worry that you have agreed to marry a man whose homeland hates anything and anyone who harbors Targaryen blood.” Visenya took a settling breath and continued. 

“Mother told us how difficult marriage can be when two people who know very little about each other must come together. If one is lucky, then they might be able to find affection or even love. If one is not, then life can be extraordinarily difficult. I can’t help but think that it might be almost impossible to find affection and love if the people sworn to you despise you for your spouse.” 

Rhaenys was too close to her sister to avoid addressing her fears. “Vissy you need not worry about causing offense. Mother and I have communicated regularly regarding these points. They are valid one, little sister. I also voiced these concerns to Robb. Allowing him the chance to walk away from his initial interest in me after the wedding feast, but he still feels that we could be good together and good for the North.” 

Rhaenys pushed back a piece of hair that appeared to fall out of her sister’s loose braid. “Robb thinks that the North and Dorne are more alike than the realm realizes. He is sure in time that both of us will be accepted, for being fostered in the South has posed several challenges for him as well.” 

She reaches for her sister’s hands, both pairs hold each other while the relic to half their heritage rested between them. “I want the life he sees for us, Vissy. I want it enough to take the chance to get it. I know there are no guarantees, but it’s a risk I am willing to take. If you can’t trust in the outcome, trust in that I have thought this option through carefully and that the decision to proceed with Robb is the one I have made with complete awareness.” 

Both sisters stared at each other for a time. Visenya was the first to break the contact with a gentle nod of her head. Rhaenys pulled her sister close and held her tight in her arms, for she will miss her sister terribly, the burn of tears attempting to escape her closed eyes. Pulling back, Visenya rises to put the egg in its case. She feels Rhaenys walking towards her.

Side by side they look at the remnant of the past resting on a purple velvet cushion, decorated with the colors that represent the oldest of King Rhaegar’s children. “Well if this dragon egg hatches, maybe you can come visit me often...since you can travel faster on a dragon than by steed or ship.” Visenya quips. 

Rhaenys could help but laugh at her sister’s hopeful, yet dreaded, expression. The idea was absolutely preposterous.

*****

Dany was taking a short walk about the gardens with her mother. Though she found it harder get about, she relished these moments of movement. Her back seemed to pain her a bit less when she had _some_ activity. If it were up to Renly and the maester, she would never be let out of her apartments.

“Daughter, it hasn’t escaped my notice that Lady Margaery has found herself with other commitments throughout the day. Those commitments being namely with my grandson.” Rhaella’s piercing gaze caused Daenerys to stop to smell a flower all in an effort to postpone having to look at her mother. 

“Daenerys...”

Realizing she was acting like a child and not like a grown married woman with two babes of her own on their way, she turned towards her mother with a practiced neutral face. 

“You have heard the rumors mother. Both of Rhaegar’s oldest children are looking to abdicate. This leaves Aemon as the next son in line for the throne.”

“And this means Lady Margaery should set her sights on him.” Rhaella conjectured. 

“No. These actions have not been brought about by Lady Margaery. I will admit to suggesting and encouraging them. I have not shared the reasons why Aegon and Jae would relinquish their roles. If they continue as Rhaegar as alluded to, then Aemon is next in the line of succession. Margaery is dear to me, and if she is to be matched with Aem, then I want her to have a chance to know him. All these years she learned of Jae, then made to think Aegon, it’s not right. She is not to blame for not knowing which man to owe allegiance to.”

“I will grant you that. It is hard for a woman to know who to rest her affections on when betrothals can change as alliances alter. Do you think it wise to put Aemon in her sights? What if matters change and one of his older brother’s take the throne? What does that do to your friend’s heart then?” Her mother’s sympathetic voice made Dany feel confident about sharing her thoughts. 

“From what I have been able to gather, it looks as though the betrothal agreement states that Margaery is to marry a prince. Perhaps if they felts inclined and the feelings were right, they could marry, regardless of who took the crown. I truly think Margaery wants to settle into a good marriage. She is ready to be a wife and mother. Aemon would be a good choice for her.”

Her mother sends her a disbelieving look as she shakes her head; plucking a red flower and bringing it to her nose. “I think you are very blind about the true nature of your dear friend. She’s a bit more astute than I think you give her credit for. Beware of that one my dearest daughter...beware of her and her kin.” 

Refusing to roll her eyes, Dany continues. “I see Lady Margaery and the Tyrell’s just fine. She has been a reliable and lovely Lady-in-Waiting for me, and Loras has been the truest friend to Renly.”

As her mother is known to do she could sense her frustration and annoyance and attempted to quell it. 

“Daenerys, please do not become upset, for it is not good for the babes. I am just advising you to exercise caution. When you lived in your brother’s household as an unmarried woman, your sphere of influence was limited. Now you are the sister to the King who is wedded to a well-regarded Lord Paramount. Your range of power has grown exponentially. You can unknowingly harm your brother and his relationships with his nobility by interfering in a brokerage of a marriage alliance without the request of the king. The Tyrell’s could use this to force your brother’s hand.” 

“The Tyrell’s are not the enemy mother. They did their duty to the Crown and more. It is disingenuous to accept their aid, when it could have come at a cost to them should the tides gone in the opposite direction, and then be suspicious when they extend their hand to receive what Rhaegar was willing to offer. I think your distrust of the Tyrell’s speak more about our family than it does theirs.” Now it was her turn to give her mother a look of disbelief.

Daenerys tried to quash the guilt she felt and speaking to her mother thusly. She may have been very loved and encouraged to speak her mind, but never had she done so in such a manner as she had. Dany loves her family, but she can see that the Tyrell’s are not wrong in this regard. Rhaegar’s guilt is what halts the marriage alliance. While she feels for her brother and whichever nephew expected to fulfil the agreement, the fact remains that a marriage is due, and the Targaryens are required to pay the agreed upon price. This is the way the Targaryens have remained as the ruling House of the realm, why would the rules change now.

*****

Lia felt the need to escape the Keep and found her attentions drawn to the nearest trading town. The news of Rhaenys upcoming marriage brings Lia such conflicted pains. Joy for her oldest friend’s happiness for all of Rhaenys’s descriptions of the young Stark tells her that Nys has found a proper match...one that brings her pleasure. The other side, that shames her to admit if even only to herself, is the jealousy that pricks her bruised heart.

While she would never speak of it, Lia hates that Rhaegar learned of his children, for if he had never known then she and Aegon would have married...of that she had no doubt for they had spoken of it. But when his father came, Aegon felt torn. He loved her, but he knew he was the king’s son and he wanted to know his father. As much as he loved Jaime, Aeg secretly wished to know his father even if he didn’t understand his father’s actions. 

Even though she said she understood, and gave him her blessing to do what he felt was right, she was so hurt by it. Was it her plight in life to be the discards of men who had a higher duty to fulfil? 

She was that for her father. He loved her mother, or so she has been told, and he still married another. Lia wasn’t even a conversation that was had. The man never knew, but when she questioned her mother about it the answer she received was always the same. 

_“Lia. It was complicated. We thought we could make it work, but then he found himself in a position that required him to do his duty to his House and I know how hard that was for him...because I had no doubt that Eddard Stark loved me, so I returned that love by not adding more pressure to make him choose.”_

Lia tends to think her mother didn’t add pressure because she didn’t want the unspoken question answered. Would he have chosen you?

As word came from Kings Landing about Crown Prince Aegon, much of it spoke of his fondness for the Lady Margaery Tyrell, a high-born lady from the Reach. Giving her blessing didn’t kill her love for Aegon, and she had hoped he felt the same. That if he were to pursue another that he would have told her first rather than let her discover it by idle gossip.

Her last raven to him asked him directly if the words were true, and his response shattered the remaining parts of her sense of self. Aegon said that he didn’t love Lady Margaery, but he has been expected to marry her in order to honor a marriage alliance between his family and the Tyrell’s. It was his duty, and though he loved her and wanted her above all others, he needed to take the proper steps to do what was best for the realm. He could not be that selfish. He could not follow in his father’s footsteps, and destroy a kingdom for his own desires. 

It was not something he could live with, and once again Lia was regulated to a place where she alone resided. A place that was created by birth or by choice, where there was conditional love, a place where she was regulated to stay but the men who created these spaces with her, and who could come and go at will. They were afforded the benefit, but never her. 

This was her place and no matter how the child or the young woman in her tried to find a way out, escape was never in her grasp. Here was her destiny and it was a cold and unforgiving place to be. For all the love she has for her family, she is often times reminded that there are other parts of her that are unrecognized or denied. The effort it takes her to put one foot before the other, when the pain of being unnecessary makes her want to remain still and unseen. All in the hopes that she can avoid any more pain. 

In a moon’s turn, Queen Elia will come with her children, and Lia’s is trying to find a peace within herself that would allow her to remain to see the aunt and sisters of her heart. She does not want to see Aegon. She cannot see Aegon. She does not think she is strong enough to withstand the permanent unspoken goodbye. 

Perhaps it would be wise if she spent some time with her Aunt Allyria and cousin Edric at Blackhaven. As Lia walks through the stalls, she spies a persimmon, and tests it for ripeness as she begins to plan how to present such a suggestion to her mother.

*****

Sansa Stark knew her parents were not a love match, but rather that love bloomed between them over time. The story of her parents origins, were some of the very last words Catelyn Stark spoke to her daughter. Her mother knew she was not going to make it through this illness, and was hellbent on imparting as much knowledge about family, duty, and honor as she could...and even love.

Loving Jaehaerys was not something Sansa sought, but rather grew during his frequent visit to the North...to Winterfell. She had known of his betrothal, but it did not stop the feelings from developing within her and within him. They had both planned to do their duty. As a child of parents who had seemed to forget theirs and a daughter of parents who exemplified duty, they both had large expectations placed on their heads. 

But then the King had discovered his first family, things changed, and for a moment Jae was an attainable goal. Until once again he wasn’t.

Feeling grateful her father didn’t dismiss her request for him to proceed with finding her a husband. She was shaken by her father’s amorous history before her mother. It was common knowledge that Catelyn Tully was to marry Brandon Stark, so Sansa was aware that her mother’s young heart belonged to another when she married Sansa’s father. 

But her father, she could never have foreseen that he too once loved another and he turned away from that person in deference to completing his duty to his family and to his House. Though her heart feels tender and sore, she can see that love can still be found with another if both people would be open to building it together...stone by stone. It is possible to hold two people in your heart, even if you could only move on with one of them. 

Just as Sansa was about to gather her cloak to walk to the glasshouses, her door burst open followed by the windstorm that was her sister, Ayra.

“Sansa! You will not believe what father has been asked? Go ahead guess.” Arya exclaimed.

Sansa took in the windswept look of her sister, estimating that she must have just returned from a ride on her beloved black horse, Baler. Unable to ignore such exuberance, Sansa gave into her sister’s request.

“Lord Bolton has asked for your hand for his son, Domeric?” Sansa queried, knowing it would annoy her sister. 

“Oh Gods, no. He’d asks for your hand before he’d ask for mine.” Arya rolled her eyes at her sister. “Try again...and make this guess good please.”

“Was it a request from Bear Island? Did Lady Mormont ask for you to return to the island after the wedding.” Sansa ignored the pinch she felt at the thought of the wedding. 

“No. But a much better guess. This is even better than that.” Arya rubbed her hands together, her eyes gleeful. 

“Well what is it?” Sansa’s interest was drawn, for only news of Bear Island makes her sister this gleeful. 

“Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys have extended an invitation for you to travel with them to Dorne prior to the wedding.” Robb deep voice came from the open doorway to Sansa’s room.

Arya spun around; her face flustered in outrage. “Robb, that’s not fair. I was going to tell her. Arrrgh!” Arya make a biting motion towards their brother, much like the She-Wolf she is. 

“Well you had a full start before me. It’s not my fault you take too long to get to the point.” Robb continued to needle her, smart enough to give wide berth as he made his way closer to Sansa. 

Sansa took in her siblings antic, while reeling from the news. A trip to Dorne. In all her eighteen years of life, Sansa has only ever gone to Kings Landing, and that was for Queen Elia’s coronation and Princess Daenerys’s wedding. Before that she had never travel outside of the North. Sure, she has visited their bannermen, the Manderly’s, the Glovers, the Mormont’s, the Reeds, and the Karstark’s, among others. Now she is being offered the chance to travel as far South as Dorne. 

“That is amazing. But why?” Unsure of what the invitation meant; Sansa felt herself guarded. 

“Rhaenys really wants to get to know you. She’s not from the North and I think she would like to find sisters, rather than allies, waiting for her when she arrives. I think this trip will give you both a chance to get to know one another before that time comes.” Her brother seemed protective of Rhaenys, but without diminishing confidence in her abilities. 

“She had me at growing up in Dorne. A lady and a fighter. It truly is the best of both worlds. A lady for you...a fighter for me.” Arya smirked. “It will be good to have someone new in the training yards.”

“I’d tell her to go easy on you, but I won’t.” Robb’s chuckled impishly under his breath. 

“We will see. All in due time, Brother.” Arya bid them adieu as she left Sansa’s chambers to ready herself for the evening meal. 

“Well Sansa, will you accept...both the invitation and the gesture.” Robb was usually so confident, that Sansa was taken aback by in uncertainty. 

Reaching for her brother, she drew him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulder. “I will Robb, on both. I want to know your wife. You both seem well matched. I wish you much joy together, just as much as father and mother...if not more.”

Robb pulled her in tighter, and it felt good to be in the safety of her brother’s arms. She missed so much on what it meant to have an older brother, but Robb appeared to want to make up for all their lost opportunity to be true siblings to each other. 

“I do not want to bring attention to something you would probably rather ignore, but I am not blind to what my marriage means for me and what it doesn’t mean for you.” Sansa stiffened in her brother’s embrace. Robb released her and pulled back to gaze at her face. 

“All I am saying is I understand if you might find future commitments uncomfortable for you, and if propriety isn’t too scandalized, I will advocate to protect you from them as much as I can...as will Rhaenys.” Sansa bit her lower lip, her nostrils flaring to quell her desire to weep. 

Reaching to embrace her brother once again, Sansa whispered in his ear, “Thank you, Brother.” She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Wondering if maybe, like her brother, the key to her future could be found in Dorne too.


	2. Secrets or Hidden Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

The smell is the most distinctive part of Kings Landing in Rhaenys opinion. For all the talk Westerosi speak unkindly towards the Dornish, she can never recall such a vile odor coming off the streets of Sunspear or Planky Town. It is her father’s wish that she and her siblings return before she would depart for Dorne, leaving his realm for several moons. 

As their party makes it way past the guarded gate of the Red Keep, Rhaenys can see her parents and Queen Lyanna awaiting their arrival. Her brothers standing beside them with twin somber expressions. The similarity in their appearance allowed Rhaenys to see how these two vastly different looking men appeared like their father. It should be so, at least not for Jaehaerys, but nevertheless her eyes do not deceive her...that is her father’s face. 

It seems Aegon’s letter remains true, and things in the castle are as strained as he told them to be. 

“Why am I suddenly thinking we should have stayed in Dragonshield? Well, maybe not we, since you must see father before you depart. But I have no such restraints. Why am I here?” Her new brother caught her attention with his voice wary as he rode up to the right side of her steed. 

“You have come to appeal to father to allow you to accompany us to Dorne.” Visenya answered from Rhaenys left. 

“I’m sure I can get mother to allow him to agree. Just as long as you work on yours. She has true reasons to fear your safety. While we have accepted you, and bare you and her other sons no responsibility for what befell the matters between our parents, Dorne has no compulsion to share in our sentiments.” Rhaenys replied honestly. 

Rhaenys had come to care for Daeron. She enjoyed his transparency. There was little subversion that lurked in her youngest brother’s countenance. It’s probably why he and Vissy have bonded so well. They are both very similar. 

“I do think my Uncle Doran will allow it, and Starfall and Sunspear will place you under their protection, but your mother has no cause to believe it.” Feeling the need to be the voice of reason, though she really would like to show Dorne to Daeron...she think he would enjoy it so. 

“I am a man grown. There is very little she can control, but I can concede that I do need to speak with her. Should I go without her approval, I do not wish to leave without trying to ease her concerns. I may not be Jae or Aem, but I do care for her thoughts.” He smirked at them, encompassing both Rhaenys and Visenya in his glance, and for a moment she saw Aegon’s expression on another man with darker features. 

Halting their horses, their party begins to dismount their steeds. Looking up, Rhaenys sees only varying degrees of happiness on the faces of the people who constitute her family. She had decided that their parents might have been the happiest of them all. 

“Your Grace.” Rhaenys dipped before her sire. The man pulling her and her sister into his embrace. Whispering words only heard by them. Behavior unbecoming of a King, perhaps, but it seems the man dared anyone to complain. His large hands cupping each daughter’s cheek. Rhaenys can’t help but notice how large a man her father is. In her young girl’s vague memories, he always seems larger than life. Now she realizes that man still holds that impression for her. 

Moving on to their mother, they could hear their father’s warm voice as he spoke to Daeron. Parents reunited with children and siblings with siblings. Rhaenys thought she couldn’t wait to sit with her mother to discuss their sojourn back to Dorne...as she spends this milestone with her dearest family and friends as they celebrate her journey into matrimony.

*****

“I think I might be too much of a pessimistic person to think Lady Margaery has made her way to Storm’s End out of gentle concern for her dearest friends.”

Daenerys looked up from the embroidery pattern she was stitching on one of the baby blankets, a black stag on a yellow background, lack of attention made for her to prick her finger. She immediately brought her injured finger to her mouth, as she glared at her nephew. 

“It is uncouth to startle people while they are in calm tranquility of their own home. I know you were raised better than that young man.” 

Ameon’s unapologetic smirk had her rolling her eyes at his expression, while he sometimes exasperated her, Aemon was truly her dearest companion. Though she was fortunate to have two older brothers who loved her, Aemon became her little brother...the one who she fought with, conspired with, it is in him that so many of her childhood memories are tied.

Pulling her hand away from her mouth, he inspects her injury. “My apologies.” A grimace takes the place of the smirk as a red blot of blood appears. “Poor timing, but do not think this incident will postpone my starter any further.” He carefully wraps his handkerchief around her offended digit. 

Dany pulls back and examines her nephew, considering her next words carefully.

“She was invited by Renly to keep me company and to visit with Ser Loras. They are very close you know, the three of them growing up in Highgarden. I also think Ren was trying to do her a kindness by giving her a reason to leave the Keep. This betrothal business cannot be easy for her...there is much burden placed on a woman when a family finds her lacking...either her own family or the family of the young man in question.”

“Hmmmm...I guess for her the question is which young man.”

“That is the question indeed. Your shared proximity was not a collusion of any sort. It is purely by luck...which one might look at as providence...if they were less pessimistic and so inclined.”

Aemon laughs at Dany’s deadpan expression. “If I believed in such things, I still would be hard-pressed to think that my older brothers would truly step away, leaving me as the Crown Prince.”

He discreetly licks his lower lip as he thinks about the young lady in question. “My brothers are fools. Though I can say with utter truth, she is quite the fetching lot. I would not turn her away. No, I think I would thoroughly enjoy a rose in my bed...thorns and all.”

Throwing a pillow and making her shot, Dany lets out a sound of annoyance at Aemon’s comfort with making her uncomfortable regarding topics of intimacies between men and women. Though now that she has enjoyed intimacies of her own, she understands why he enjoys partaking of such moments as often as he does.

“She is not to be treated like one of your whores. Lady Margaery is just that...a Lady. I do think though that you both could be well suited. She is smart, a delightful conversationalist, playful, lively, aware of life at Court, loyal, dutiful, and lest we forget...beautiful with a well-connected family.” Daenerys arched her brow at her nephew, daring him to disagree.

“A woman like that might steal my heart, and what do I do when one of my brothers decides to be the dutiful son he is required to be and she is made to marry him. Where does that leave me and my tender heart?” Aemon’s sly smile alerts her that his comment is made with some seriousness and some jest. 

“If I were being a bit open with my knowledge, I would say that a certain Lady is looking to be matched with a nice young man from a good House...a prince, perhaps. The title of queen is what her family may be looking for, but she is looking for a husband.” Dany hefts herself up with Aemon’s assistance. “And you dear young man are in need of a wife.”

“Ha! Says the woman who married at twenty years of age to a man of seven and twenty. You do remember than I am younger than you.”

“You are only nine and ten years with a name day in a few short months. Besides you know why I was allowed to wait.” Dany rose a hand to touch Aemon’s face. So Northern and yet she can see her own Targaryen features in it. 

“My desire to marry Ren at six and ten was true, but she... _she wasn’t ready_. She wanted me to have what she didn’t. Do not mock her or me or punish yourself for it. If you are interested in Lady Margaery and are willing to step forward in lieu of your brothers, then pursue her. If you want to make a claim, I will speak to your father.” 

There it was...the sincere smile he reserved for so few people. He patted the hand that held his face. “I will strongly consider it, Dany.”

Feeling as she has made steps to honoring her families oaths to the Tyrell, Daenerys invites Aemon to take a walk with her about the castle.

*****

Ashara read the letter for the tenth time. The words had not changed no matter how clearly Ashara could hear the apology in the tone of Elia’s letter.

While her daughter’s bastardy was understood by the nobility and a ceaseless worry in Dorne, aside from her daughter the identity of her father was unknown to all, with the exception of Allyria and Elia. There has been speculation of the eligible men who could have fathered Lia, Brandon Stark was considered the most likely candidate. 

Therefore, Ashara has little doubt that Rhaenys’s decision to extend an invitation to her future good-sisters to come to Dorne came out of good faith, and no malice, yet her daughter would be hurt by the gesture regardless. What was she to do? Should she let her daughter visit with her sister and nephew. 

Rhaenys’s is one of Lia’s dearest friends, perhaps it is time that Lia reveal her secret, then she could postpone hurting her friend by her absence. Though she is dearly loved, Ash knows that her daughter feels slighted by not having her father’s recognition and affection. 

Now in less than a moon’s turn she will find herself surrounded by her father’s trueborn daughters. These young women never to know who she truly was to them. Her daughter to see what these daughters might mean to their father through the gestures and steps he will undertake to ensure they are cared for. She would be made to hear the stories of a father she will never know. It is a level of cruelty her daughter is not deserving of. 

Ashara sought her daughter out, finding her seated on a window seat with a book on the _Histories of the Rhoynar_. A lover of books, historical tales being her favorite, Ashara found it difficult to bring herself to disturb her daughter’s peace but this news could not wait. 

“My love, might I get a moment.”

Her beautiful eyes, a gift bestowed upon her by her father, looked up from the book. “Of course, Mother. Join me. I had just gotten to the part where Mors I and Nymeria came to term on their marriage privately before meeting with their council. Their words went deep into the night.”

“Scandalous.” Ashara mockingly widened her eyes, while lifting an open hand towards her mouth. Pursing her lips in japing fun.

Lia laughed at her mother, curling her legs under her to make space for Ashara to sit beside her. “Most certainly then...hmmm...and now if we are completely honest.”

“Very true.” Ashara mused at the thought. Even though Dorne is a bit more understanding of matters of the flesh, the rest of the realm is less flexible in thought. Even within Dorne, as with anywhere else, a person can hold certain principles even if their people felt differently. 

Not all were comfortable with her when they discovered she had laid with a man before marriage. If a bastard or a married woman chose to lay with a man, then it is acceptable, but if a maiden does so...there is an attachment that comes to her...not a man, though, just the maiden. The knowledge vexed her, but she could acknowledge this was the world they lived in. 

“You are usually taken with a meeting at this time with the castellan. What finds you free of such a thing?” Lia inquires, her eyes reading her features. Ashara turns away to purchase herself a moments reprieve before speaking her reason.

“I received a letter from Queen Elia during the meeting.” Ashara began, testing the waters of what she would say.

“Is all well?” Her daughter’s concerned voice drew Ashara’s attention back to her child. 

“Yes. It’s just she was making me aware of a slight alteration to their party.” 

“An alteration.” Attempting to keep her voice neutral, Ash could sense her daughter’s apprehension.

“Yes. It seems as though they are adding to their party. Rhaenys has extended an invitation to her soon-to-be good-sisters to spend time with her in Dorne for the next two moons.” Ashara eyed her daughter, not sure what else there was to say.

The silence was more deafening than Ashara could have anticipated. Her daughter’s stillness frightened her, those gray eyes staring out of the open window, any shadow of the smile that had graced her lip...vanished. Before her eyes she saw her daughter don her armor, each piece placed just so about her person all in an effort to keep the staffs and blades from piercing the small bastard child that lives within...the one she seeks to protect. Once the defense was in place, she turned back to Ashara.

“I should not be surprised by this, and in all fairness, I am not. It’s just feels like a lot, Mother. My dearest friend is marrying. Aegon will marry another. My half-sisters, who do not know of my existence, are coming to my home. These people are of the North, a people known for not being the kindest to their bastards. I will not be cowed in my own home.”

Grasping her daughter’s chin, peering into her eyes...a fire raging in them. “They will not make you feel thusly. I will make that clear with Elia. Though I doubt I will need to for she will not tolerate you or her nieces being mistreated so. If remaining here makes them loose their proper graces, then they can sleep with their bannermen on the outside of our gates.”

Reaching her hand to touch Ashara’s, Lia nodded firmly, and she could see her daughter trusted in her words. For there was no reason for Lia not to, Ashara thought, as she always burned though who attempted to harm her daughter.

*****

It has been a moon since Sansa and her sister left for the capital with a number of their bannermen, a show of support from the North to this union between the heir of Winterfell and the Princess of the Iron Throne. While her people have harsh feelings towards her Aunt and the King, they keep themselves separate from the realm as a whole.

Sansa knows they accept Robb’s marriage as their due...the Pact of Ice and Fire...in its proper form. What passes for what her Aunt and her husband have has no positive bearing on the relationship between the North and the Royal House. It is Robb and Rhaenys’s marriage that softens the Northern stance, and being Northern that does seem like much for they are a rigid people. 

Over the years the King has visited Winterfell three times and each time it was to personally escort her brothers to the Houses which would foster them; Robb to House Velaryon, Brandon to House Selmy, and Rickon to House of Rykker. Each time he would arrive, Jaehaerys and his brother would accompany their father. 

When Robb left she was so young and confused, for she could not make sense as to why her beloved brother had to leave her. It was then that Sansa began to realize that her aunt’s marriage was not the song she thought it was. 

Jaehaerys tried to comfort her...telling her that her brother was going to be fostered in a great house...and he was secretly jealous that Robb had such a chance. Sansa thought that perhaps this could be a good thing, she trusted her quiet cousin.

Upon their return several years later to retrieve Brandon, Sansa was older and a bit wiser about the events that created the family she now resides in. Though it broke her heart to say good-bye to the boy who had dreams of being a knight, she knew that for her brother this was a dream come true. As she tried to find a private place to shed her tears, Jae found her and brushed them away. Trying once again to offer comfort. Her mind goes to that fateful day.

_“I know I should not cry. I knew this day would come...for it is my family’s punishment for their part in the war.”_

_“Just because you know of something to come it does not mean that you can control how much it will affect you. My father may have demanded this of your father, and I will not state my opinions on his rule, but what I can say is that it is very important that my father take your brother’s to their new home.” His thumb wipes a tear that has crested on her cheek._

_“He wants the Lord, Ladies, and anyone who serves within those Keeps to know that this boy is related to the King and therefore is under the King’s protection. I think it’s the only gesture he can offer without going back on his original sentence.”_

_Sansa’s voice wavered as she fought a burst of anger. “If he thinks he was wrong then why does he not say so.”_

_“A King cannot be wrong, Sansa.” Jae murmured, his eyes saddened and morose._

_“Do you believe that? Do you truly believe that?” She inquired, her gaze pinning his with those blue orbs._

_“Part of me needs to?” He took a deep breath, his back straightening to his full height._

_“Why?” she persisted, not understanding this dogmatic insistence to not gainsay his father in private._

_His gaze flashed in hurt and anger, before banking it. “Because if he is wrong, then that means we are too...my mother, my brothers. We shouldn’t have been meant to be, and if he we're to say we were wrong, then what happens to us. What about all those people? His other family? It’s just all too much undo the lies we have told ourselves, Sansa.”_

_Shocked by his words, but moved by them all the same, Sansa hugged her cousin as he quietly held her in return._

That was the day things had changed between them. They began to write to each other frequently. Jaehaerys while not officially fostered, stayed with the Starks for three years...learning about his mother’s family, visiting many of their bannermen with Robb once he returned, and discovering what it means to be Northern.

When his father came for her younger brother. Jaehaerys told her of his dream to open a home for poor children or orphans to learn how to be fighters or healers. He said one of the common problems old knights would share would be the travesty of seeing young men unprepared to battle...not trained in the way a highborn son would have been...and the lack of care afterwards. 

_“So, what do you think of your father granting me land?” His expectant look made her giggle._

_“You are the son of the King...” she laughed. “I imagine you could just ask your father for it.”_

_“Sans, you know I cannot do that. It belongs to the North. My family has already taken enough, don’t you think? I want to be given it...it would mean more if your father saw me worthy of it.” He groused._

_“I can get seasoned men to teach and you could find the healers. You are good with making tonics and ointments that lessen the pains Robb and I have coming off of the training yard.” He shoots her an open smile, a rarity in a young man who hides himself constantly._

_Feeling as though she is the worst person for reminding them of their duty, she does for if she doesn’t then they both run the risk of hurting the other once reality intrudes...for she would love to be with him and follow him, but that is not their fate._

_“I think in the end it is a wonderful dream. You however are the Crown Prince of the King, and I am not meant to live my life in the South. Maybe in another reality I would have, but in this one...my place, my duty is in the North.” Sansa pulled her gaze from Jae’s in enough time to hide the tears that began to burn._

_“If only thing were different, right?” Jae turned away, looking out at the field over the battlements._

_“Right...”_

When his older brother returned it seemed to Sansa that the gods were sending her a blessing that she and Jae were meant to be, but as it stands he might regain his title as Crown Prince...even if now it is just speculative talk. 

Sansa knows Jae though. He was ready to do his duty once before to assist in the mending of his parents ill-gotten union and he will unhappily return to it if asked. As the carriage comes to a standstill, Sansa can see the King standing with his family, her eyes drawn to her Prince who she wished never was.

*****

Rhaenys Targaryen had taken a look at the bolts of lace and silks she has placed all about her private solar. She heard a knock at her door and knew it was the group of women she had invited to her rooms. After corresponding with Robb and speaking with her parents, she knew they supported her decision to alter the wedding ceremony just a bit.

“Enter...” She called out. 

As expected Visenya and Robb’s sisters walked into her chamber. 

“Please sit...make yourself comfortable.” Rhaenys ushered them towards a small seating area that was catered with teas, small meat pies, and lemon-cranberry tarts. 

As usual with her sister, Visenya found a spot and tucked her feet under her as she settled in with a tart. Sansa and Arya seemed a bit more wide-eyed and reserved when in her presence, but Robb assures her that they are not normally so. She hopes inviting them to Dorne and to partake in their wedding will thaw some of the formality they hold towards her. 

“Thank Princess Rhaenys. This spread looks lovely. Anything with lemons are my favorite. What a thoughtful touch!” Sansa’s voice seemed warmer to Rhae’s ears, a bit of surprised could be heard in her voice. 

“And as a connoisseur of baked goods, meat pies are my favorites.” Arya bit her lower lip as she eyed the pork, onions, and carrot pie.

“As I have stressed before it’s just Rhaenys in private. I am happy to have gotten such preferences right. Please help yourself. While you settle, I would like to discuss something with you...regarding the wedding.” Rhaeneys looks over at her sister as Vissy begins on her second tart, her eyes narrowed as she looked at her as though trying to sum up Rhaenys intentions.

“You are aware that our wedding will take place in the capital. First a Sevens wedding and then one in Winterfell in the Godswood before the Old Gods.” The women nods in understanding; Rhaenys continues.

“In both ceremonies I would like to add an element that isn’t commonly seen. While those who have sworn their allegiance to my father will be present at the ceremony, Robb and I would like to have people who are important to us standing closer to us as we take this next step together.”

“Have the High Septon approved such a break in tradition. I always imagine that marriage is between the man and woman with a septon tying the bonds.” Sansa asked, her a stir of excitement in her voice. 

“Apparently not as he as approved the alteration.” Rhaenys smiled at her. She takes a moment to closely inspect Sansa, and she can see why Jae desires her. The redhead is beautiful; there is a quiet strength about her, but she is not passive...a compliment to her quiet brother. 

“What is it that you are asking for specifically?” Visenya queries.

“Dressed in your house colors, I ask that you stand below the step of the altar. My ladies on my side and Robb’s men on his. It’s not so much anything you do, but your presence...of the people dearest to us should not be regulated to the back...you are too important to us.” Rhaenys concluded; watching each woman’s expression carefully. She knew Vissy would support her regardless, but she wasn’t completely sure Robb’s sister would want to participate in such a way. 

“My plan is to ask my cousins Nymeria and Tyene...”

“Not Obara, she’d laugh in your face and then plant you on your ass...but she’d take on the mantle of being your protector should you require it.” Visenya quipped.

“True.” Rhaenys laughed when she thought of her older cousin. “I was also going to ask Lia.”

“Hmmm....” A soft smile tugged at Visenya’s lips. 

“Lia?” Arya prompted.

“She is probably my oldest friend...more like another sister. I’d like to have all my sister’s there...either by blood, by marriage, or by choice.”

The Stark sisters has a silent conversation between each other. It was a behavior she engaged in with her own sister; a familiar expression shared by two different sets of women. Rhaenys smiled over at her sister to see that she too noticed the exchange. 

“Well, if you truly want us to stand with you, then we would be honored.” Sansa reached over and squeezed her hand gently. Rhaenys felts good about asking her. She could see herself truly loving her good-sisters.

“We do. I do. Now that this matter is settled let us select your dress patterns and fabrics before we head to Dorne, shall we.” Rhaenys extends her arm out towards the fabrics that litter the room.

*****

A cool fall breeze was entering the windows of her husband’s sitting room. Daenerys always loved how Renly sought to her comfort...always asking her if she was well, if she needed anything, if she were happy. While this marriage was a marriage of duty and he was raised with little love, Daenerys knows she has found good fortune with this man, for he does he love her in his limited way. She is a firm believer that you can only give what you have experience with, in time he will learned to love her deeply as he sees how much she loves him.

After retrieving another pillow for her back, he resumes his seated position beside Ser Loras. Dany knows that Renly’s time as a ward of the Tyrell’s was not the warmest of experiences, but he found a true friend in Loras...and in Margaery. 

There is a sincere and genuine fondness she can observe when the three of them are together, secret looks and silent conversation as though the Tyrell siblings absorbed him into their familial affection. She has exhibited such behaviors with Viserys and her nephews. 

“So, Loras have you noticed a certain Highgarden Rose in the company of a dashing Targaryen Prince.” Dany tried to hide the smirk that bloomed on her face behind her teacup.

Loras huffed out a laugh, looking down as he shook his head, his curls dancing about his head. It is not the first time that his man’s beauty has struck her, for all his masculine grace in a tourney he is quite lovely. “I may have noticed a demure flush or two in my sister when I mentioned seeing her and Prince Aemon about the gardens.

“Ha,ha,ha...oh, what wonderful news, don’t you think husband?” Dany sips her drink as her bright violet eyes look towards Renly. 

“It could be, Dan. I mean Aemon is young but he is determined that is for sure, and he seems determined to get to know Margaery...”

“...While she seems inclined to let him.” Dany finished. Unable to contain her joy at the potential for her dearest nephew and friend to find an accord that might grant them the marriages they need...for Aemon a wife that will help him politically, and for Margaery a husband who could value her for the forward-thinking woman she is. 

“Perhaps we can host them for private dinners in our solar and perhaps find ourselves needing to discharge ourselves due to your condition. Multiple dinners can hint at subtle support for the union or it could be dismissed as just meals among family and friend should either need for an excuse arises.” Renly looks to Loras before turning to her, his head cocked in demand for her response.

Daenerys considers her mother’s words about a show being used against her House...against her brother the King. She can see the excuse of dinner as a plausible one, so she smiles with a nod. Clearly this suggestion meant something to her love, for she could see him relax tremendously at her acquiesces. 

“In fact, I think that the more time they just happen to spend here in Storm’s End would tie nicely with their shared arrival to Kings Landing, for my niece Princess Rhaenys’s wedding to Robb Stark, assuming you would remain Loras to escort your sister on this journey. What say you friend?”

This time Loras looked towards Renly before turning his attention to Daenerys. “You are too kind, Princess. To entertain this man...” he knocked his shoulder into her husband’s, “...in keeping an old friend about while helping my sister find a match worthy of her.” 

Daenerys basks in the warmth of knowing that her friends see her as helpful towards this match. Though her influence is limited, she trust in herself that this is a good thing she is doing...for the House she was born into, the House she married into, and the House that has been dutiful and faithful to her own.

*****

Ashara was grateful that her friend has arrived to Starfall. While she can remember the Elia, who had never taken to the stifling air that permeated the capital, she was relieved to see Elia looking healthier and stronger than ever...if a little pale from the lack of intensity of the Dornish sun.

The two women held each other in a tight embrace. While Elia’s procession to Starfall had always been royal, for she is a Princess of Dorne, this procession was fit for a Queen. It seems as if King Rhaegar spared no expense, or protection if she is to leave him by the number of guards that surround their courtyard for his Dornish Queen. 

“By the Gods, how I have missed you, Sister!” Elia’s trembled whisper caused the tears to well in Ashara’s eyes. 

“And I you, Your Grace...” Ashara whispered back, as she clenched Elia tighter to herself.

Elia pulled back, her hands holding Ashara’s face, Ashara’s hands laid over Elia’s. “Never for you...it will always be Sister.” Elia kissed her in the traditional Dornish way, a kiss on both cheeks. 

Blinking their tears away, Ashara can see her friend’s daughters exiting the carriages, as Elia searches expectantly for something or someone behind Ashara. 

“Where is Lia?” Elia asked, her brows lowered; a clear sign that she was bracing herself for unpleasant news.

“She has gone to spend some time with Allyria and Edric in Blackhaven.”

“Oh, I see.” Elia released a deep breath. “I understand...” turning behind her to see the rest of their party climb out of the carriage. 

“Do you?” Ashara gently prodded. 

“I do. I was able to talk Aegon into staying in Kings Landing, but...I didn’t know how to deny Rhaenys this without telling her why.” Elia grasped Ashara’s hand, bring it towards her heart. “It was not my secret to tell, Ash.”

It was Ashara’s turn to hold her friend’s face with her empty hand. “I know, and Lia knows. This is why we thought it best that she get away for a little while. She will be back in a fortnight. You and your daughters are too important to her to stay away for long.”

Two young women, one hair so dark and the other so red, looked towards her. Ashara stiffened much to Elia’s awareness. 

“So these are Ned’s daughters?” Ashara whispers to Elia.

“Yes. The young woman with red hair is Sansa and the one with black is Arya. They older one has subtle tones of Eddard, I think, but it's been so long that perhaps my mind is playing trick on me. Though the younger one does that have the Stark look...with hair and eyes just like Lia. 

With a brisk nod she walks toward Rhaeneys and Visenya. 

“Ashara!” twin echoes from two young women she once remember holding as babes. They embrace; with Ashara taking a little bit more time to observe Rhaenys...a woman grown who is soon to be wed. She pulls her in for one more hug.

As the pull away from each other, Ashara turns to the daughters of Winterfell. With a smile now on her face; she is ready to greet her guest.

“Lady Sansa and Lady Arya, I am Lady Ashara Dayne and I welcome you to Starfall.”

The girls mindful of their manners, Ashara noted, as they dipped appropriately before her. Ashara notices the ease such courtesy was for the elder sister and how uncomfortable for the younger. 

“Thank you my Lady for hosting us in your home. We are honored.” The red-haired beauty spoke. 

“Please come. I am sure you a tired after such a long journey...and parched as well.” Ashara ushered her guest; while she worked diligently to maintain her countenance without staring at the taller Northern woman who kept astutely looking at her.

Rhaenys threaded her arm with Ashara as they walked towards the Keep. “Where is Lia?” she asked.

“Lia, that is the friend you spoke of.” The shorter Northern added. 

“Yes. Lia is Lady Ashara’s daughter, and just like her mother is my mother’s oldest and dearest friend...Lia is mine.” Rhaenys beamed as she spoke to her future good-sister.

Ashara notices the unhealthy paleness of the oldest Stark woman, and reaches out for her. She imagines that the Dornish temperatures, even in the autumn are hotter than she has ever encountered in the North.

Seemingly embarrassed by drawing such attention to herself, the young woman quickly tried to regain her composure. 

“My apologies, perhaps you are right and I am more fatigue than I thought.” Ashara notices the hard swallow, forced smile, and lowered eyes. Before she can reply to Rhaenys, she wonders what she has welcomed into her home.

*****

A sennight has passed since Sansa had arrived with her sister and their companions to Dorne...to Starfall in particular. It has been a lovely stay with a very generous host, but she has struggled to maintain her façade of neutrality when she knows who the Lady Dayne was to her father. A truth she has not yet shared with Arya.

As Arya is enjoying a sparring session with Rhaenys and Visenya’s cousin Nymeria, she wonders if she should share with her sister what she knows. During her time in this vast desert, she has learned that Lia is younger than Rhaenys...but closer in age to Aegon and Visenya, which would mean her simple math calculates Lia’s conception around the time of that her father spoke of knowing Lady Ashara. 

Perhaps she is wrong, but to remember her father’s words about Lady Dayne and the lack of honor he demonstrated in her presence at times haunt him because he had loved her so and lost her just as quickly. As Sansa has yet to meet the young woman. She doesn’t know if her looks would reveal her paternal figure. 

While the daughter in her who loves her mother fiercely, and loves the unit of her parents even more, hopes that Elia Sand is not her father’s child but she thinks that the odds are against her. This potential knowledge is more than she can maintain in secret. Her father’s past indiscretion was shared to commiserate with her own pain, and was not meant to share with others. 

How she wishes her father were near? Would he want to know? Of course, he would. He is known as _The Honorable Eddard Stark._ Clearly Lady Ashara’s decision to keep silent on this child should be seen as her desire to keep it unaddressed. Maybe she was shamed that she was carrying another man’s child while finding intimacy with her father. 

Sansa ate a fig as she pondered what she should do. The answer came to her in the form of silence...the art of doing nothing. That is what she would do...nothing, unless she had some proof that this young woman was her father’s child...her half-sister.

The loud “bang” of the door opening jolted Sansa out of her contemplations. Sansa turned to the door her eyes just as wide as her sister’s who looked mortified at the ill-mannered way she enter the room...in a home that was not her own. 

“Arya!” Sansa admonished. 

“I know, I know. I am so sorry, but we just got word that Lady Dayne’s daughter in almost here. I thought it might be worth the effort to at least attempt at some Southern civility.” Arya chuckled awkwardly. Sansa knew such graces do not come easy to her sister, and Sansa appreciates the attempt. 

Arya quickly rinsed off using the water in the basin by the dressing screen. In short time her sister was dressed and as presentable has she could be and still remain true to being Arya Stark. 

As the sisters made their way to the courtyard, Sansa’s stomach soured at what meeting this young woman would mean. Mayhap her concerns were for naught. Her eyes are caught on Lady Dayne embracing a young woman with hair just as dark as Arya. She thinks nothing of it as the color is a common one...not so different from the older woman’s hair color. 

It wasn’t until Arya’s quavered gasped beside her, that Sansa realized that the violent clenching of her innards was not contributed to her imagination. As the younger woman pulls away from her mother, before them stood a woman that shared some of the beauty associated with her mother with the subtle features of a Stark. If one didn’t know what to look for, the resemblance to the Queen and Arya could not be missed, but Sansa and Arya would see it where others might not.

The gray eyes, the longer face...she wasn’t sure if Arya could see Eddard Stark in her eyes, her smile...when he chose to show it as it was known to around his wife and children. After this meeting there was no doubt in Sansa’s mind that she had just seen Eddard Stark's first born child. 

A whispered voice floated to her ear closest to Arya. “Is it me or does she look like...a Stark?”

“Hmmmm...” Not sure there was anything she could say in response. 

It was Rhaenys’s who pulled Elia Sand towards them. If Sansa wasn’t sure who this woman was, her tight forced smile, and her mother’s gentle touch to her back...a touch she recognized as reassurance and support...a gesture she remembered her mother providing to her every time Jaehaerys came to visit. 

“Lady Sansa and Lady Arya may I introduce my dearest friend, Lady Ashara’s daughter...Elia Sand of Starfall.” Rhaenys held her friends arm with much familiarity. Sansa wondered if she knew...that her friend was a sister of her future husband. Does Robb know? Sansa found that her forced smile matched that of the young woman who shared her same height. 

“Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, it is a pleasure to meet you. I apologize for my absence, but a visit to my aunt and cousin could not be helped.” Her voice had a soft Dornish sound...just as her mother’s did...just as the rest of the women in their company. It was...lovely.

“Lady Elia.” The Stark sisters both replied.

“I am no Lady, and please call me Lia. Between the Queen, me, and her niece there would be much confusion.” She gently quipped, a quiet strength Sansa recognizes...one she sees in her Father and in Jaehaerys. 

“The pleasure is ours, Lia. Please let us put formalities aside, and call us Sansa and Arya.” 

Visenya pulled at Lia’s hand as she spoke about the gifts she brought back for her from the Westerlands. The rest of the young women in the courtyard followed behind...Arya in tow. 

Sansa turned away from the departing group to look at Lady Ashara and Queen Elia as the women watched the crowd enter the Keep. Keeping her back straight and her resolve firm, Sansa proceeded to get the Lady’s attention.

“Lady Dayne.”

“Yes, Sansa?”

“I hope that we may get a chance to speak privately before we return to Kings Landing, my Lady.”

The look unspoken exchanged between the older women was not overlooked by Sansa.


	3. Interlude I: The Other Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia finally reveals the truth of her relationship with Jaime Lannister to Rhaegar. 
> 
> Warning: This chapter has a high angst factor. I feel like I should warn you. I know angst...especially heavy angst is not everyone's cup of tea. I just didn't know how you could broach the topic of a broken marriage, heartbreak, and mutual infidelity without it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have three interludes.The first is this one.
> 
> Please remember as you read this chapter, the POV comes from Elia so we don't really know what Rhaegar is feeling or thinking. We only have her suppositions and conjectures about his thoughts.
> 
> On a side note, I bawled like a baby writing this soooo proceed with caution...lol.
> 
> Disclaimer; I own nothing

The day had started as any other for Queen Elia Targaryen. She broke her morning fast with her hostess, family, and guest. At some point she took a walk through the local town, finding some of her favorite seasonal fruit on display for purchase. 

While she was there she found other items that caught her eye; a beautiful lightweight headdress of gold and purple that she thought would look lovely on Lia, a tan leather dagger’s belt for Obara, some unusual and hard to find herbs for Oberyn and Tyene, a pocket knife with a pearl inlay handle for Visenya. She even discovered an emerald green and cool gray hair comb that would look lovely on Lady Sansa. 

As she left the last merchant with a note of gratitude, Elia was hard-pressed to ignore the number of Kingsguard sent to "protect" her. Thankful at the very least that Arthur was kept in Kings Landing. The number of men who surrounded her was ridiculous in her opinion. She would have dreaded being home in the presence of most unwelcomed Dornishman in Dorne; then in all truthfulness, the Dornish asperse and disowned him long ago. 

This was Dorne. This was her home, and she was safe here. The amount of time spent arguing that point did very little to alter her husband’s position. In the end, Elia found the discussion tedious with no accord in sight. She understood he wanted “his family protected”, but this just seemed overwhelming to her...and in truth a bit stifling. 

In Dorne is where she felt the most _free_ , but now...with these men...she was reminded of how much her life had changed when she returned to the Kings Landing...when she returned to the life she thought she left behind...when she returned to Rhaegar world. 

Complete with her morning shopping, she informed her guards of her desire to go back to Starfall. Once she made it to her chambers, she sat with a cool glass of blood orange sweet tea to help cool her body down after being in the morning heat for so long. 

Her mind reverted back to the thoughts she had before. She had returned to Rhaegar, or rather some version of her returned to him. 

As she sat on her chaise, Elia pulled out a letter from the pile she left on the table beside her seat. It was from her husband. Even though she read the letter countless times, she was unsure what to make of it...how to respond. 

The last words they spoke to each other were difficult, but then hard conversations have become their new normal with a smattering of equally comforting ones too. 

However, this last discussion brought to light a topic that she wasn’t sure she had wanted to address at that time. It wasn’t that the subject itself brought her shame, no never that, but rather in telling Rhaegar she felt she was sharing a piece of herself that she cherished...a piece she didn’t want Rhaegar influence to touch. 

It was then that she realized that she needed him to know. That in protecting that part of her, she was denying him the full impact of his choices and how it shaped her and their children more than he could know.

The connection that still resounded within Elia and her Rhaegar vibrated between them; she was not blind to that awareness even though keeping him at a distance had become automatic for her.

In the end Elia felt that Rhaegar understood her apprehension towards him. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t try to ignore or brush their past aside. Instead he tried to focus on the now, but Elia knew there was another part of the gap that stood between them. An obstacle...a person he never knew existed...a competitor he never knew he had. 

Beside her, folded carefully was his cloak. Years ago, he took it off, washed it, and put it in a trunk where he kept pieces of his past. A case he gave to her just before he passed. Her thoughts drifted to the day he gave it to her and the words he said.

_Take it my love, I am not a man of wealth. Let’s be honest; I have lived a very comfortable life at the generosity of your family.”_

_“Jaime that’s not true.”_

_“Yes it is. I left the name and the wealth of a Lannister long ago. I do not regret it, nor am I too proud to admit I found a good purpose for my life with you and the children.”_

_Looking away from the man settled on the bed, Elia refused to acknowledge the burn her tears brought to her eyes._

_“It’s not fair.” Shaking her head to calm the rage inside her. “After everything...we finally find our way and these Gods or Furies...they just can’t seem to stay away from tearing our hearts apart.”_

_Jaime took her hand into his; bringing it to his warm chapped lips. “Perhaps it's best to see it as this always being my fate, and the deities at hand made every effort to give us the best life and loves with the short time they knew us to have.”_

_She released a shaky laugh. “You know you never have been this optimistic. Who are you and what have you done with the man I love?”_

_Pulling her hand and bringing her to rest beside him; Elia laid her head on his shoulder as she rested a palm on his heart; barely aware that he was running his fingers through her hair._

_“I am still me. I also know that a woman and children were never in my future until things changed. We were never supposed to be, but I do not regret us. I relish in what we were able to create. We have had a blessed life together, Elia, and we have raised wonderful children...children any man would be proud to claim. My own sorrow is that you and the children had to fall in order for us to exist. I would never have wished that upon you; you must believe that my heart.”_

_Raising her face to meet his gaze, she smiles. Lord how those eyes, even close to near death, they are devoted to her. It’s also an expression he gives her children...their children._

_“I have never questioned your motives Jaime. I refuse to allow you to do it to yourself. I love you. You made that an ability I could still claim. I never thought I could love another man the way I freely gave myself to Rhaegar, but you just edged yourself in my heart in such a way that all I could see was you.”_

_“You give me too much power, Elia. You are a woman meant to love. I am a man smart enough to accept it...embrace it...rejoice in it. However, while I never felt you were divided in your love for me, we both know he is still in there...in a place you keep very well hidden and protected just as my sister is for me. I hope you never have cause to revisit that love, but you might need to be prepared to...should he ever return.”_

_“I do not need to do anything of the sort. I love you. Let me just think of you...be with you. Do not bring him here. He has no place here. He does not get to touch this, my love...never.”_

_“I wish you knew how humbled I am that you love as powerfully as you have, for do not doubt your love is a force to be reckoned with.”_

_“I hope you know I feel the same.” Elia lost herself to his kiss. So simple a gesture, yet so powerful._

_“It’s that knowledge I will take with me, do not fret on that regard.”_

_Elia held him tighter, his body feeling smaller...the wasting away. That might be the hardest part of watching his decline, she thought._

_“Once again you seem to have pulled my attention away from my initial intent.” His body rattled harshly as he laughed; a harsh contrast to his mood._

_“Ah yes, the trunk.” She brushed a stray hair away from his brow. She notes how the vibrant blonde mane is more grey than yellow._

_“Inside the chest I have left three items I want you to give to the children for me.”_

_“Why me? Why do you not give it to them now? I think it would mean more...don’t you.”_

_“I have small gifts that I intend to give them...soon.” A harsh cough violent shook him, Elia rose to remove any pressure from him...how she longed for the days where she was a slight weight upon him, unlike now. His mind and spirit are strong, but his body is no longer willing to keep up the pretenses it seems._

_“What is so special about these items? When do you want me to gift them?” Her voice sounded so lost and far away; even to herself._

_“I think you’ll understand once you see them. Go on...take a look.”_

_Elia rose and kneeled down to peer inside the large wooden box. Her eyes darted between the three objects in the chest. What remained left of her composure pressed against her resolved until the tears fell silently and freely._

_“Please explain...” her voice carried on in a whisper._

_“I leave for Rhae my Kingsguard cloak. As long as she has lived, my life had been in a form of servitude towards her. An honor most high. She was, is, my Princess.” His voice was thick, Elia felt his emotions wash over her._

_“I would have lived my whole life devoted to her protection, but our paths will not allow that to be so. The best I could do is to teach her to protect herself, with this I want to remind her that I will always stand behind her. Like the cloak is not always seen by the wearer, but the owner knows it is there...as I hope she knows I will be there for her in my way.”_

_Elia pressed her eyes shut; a swell of tears burst through. She wiped them away with her hand._

_“For Aeg I leave my sword. It has served me well, from boy to man I must say. It has been bathed with the blood of his enemies. Those that tried to terminate him for no reason than they saw an opportunity to do so. My own father the leader of those who betrayed their vow to protect Aegon.”_

_Jaime took a deep breath. His voice wet with his own tears._

_“A singular Lannister sword that fought members of a Lannister army. May he never need to use it, but if the day comes that he does, then I will be there...guiding his hand. The sword saved him once before; I have strong faith that should he need it the sword will save him again.”_

_Elia long fingers touched the hilt, a lion head with emerald gems for eyes._

_“And Visenya?” Elia whispered._

_His sharp exhalation drew her attention thinking he was in pain, but her impressions were not off for the look on his face was pained, but it was a pain of the heart she supposed._

_“Vissy has never truly been touched by everything that transpired in Westeros. We protected her from that by simply surviving the escape. I never had to share her you know. Rhaenys had vague recollections of Rhaegar being her father; and as his son Aegon has been curious about his father’s infamy; Vissy...she was always mine. I never had to share her attention, there was never any confliction about her care towards me.”_

_“You are her father. The only one she has ever truly known.”_

_“And I know it, Elia. As a father I want to protect our warrior princess the best way I can.”_

_“Your armor...”_

_“She can melt it down and have it remade to be properly fitted for her or perhaps she has it made into something that she would need to protect herself.”_

_“Do you foresee her requiring protection?”_

_“I am not a mystic, my love. I do not know whether Rhaegar prophecy is true. I do not know if he will find you and the children. I do not know if he will leave you in peace, try to end you or the children. I have no idea if the children will want to go back. I do not know how Lyanna and her children to take to such news. I know nothing of the future Elia. I can only leave bits of myself behind in hopes that should they need me, they can find strength in who I was and how I have helped raised them. I pray to the Gods that it be enough.”_

_Elia launched herself onto his bed and into his arms and together they broke, tears and sobs shaking them to their core; whispered words of love, devotion, and understanding, until once again they found strength within each other to find the comfort they needed to fortify who they were._

_A man and a woman. An unlawfully wedded husband and wife. The remains of a war that grew into something neither one expected._

The letter from Kings Landing caught her eye once again; leaving her to think about how the subject of her past love made its way to her present. 

Rhaenys had asked Elia if she thought Rhaegar would object to having a place of honor for Ser Jaime. Elia thought it an inconspicuous gesture, a quiet tribute to the man who saved her when the father who sired her was nowhere to be found. 

_“I do not understand why Rhaenys persist on having an empty seat reserved for him at our dais. Is it not tactless towards Lady Marbrand and the other Lannister who will be in attendance?” Rhaegar deep breath had her seeking her own, though she thought their reasons were not the same...hers to fortify herself for an argument, his was probably in frustration._

_Elia kept her eyes downward, her gaze focused on an intricate pattern on the rug below her feet. She did not want to look at her husband for she feared something in her expression would give away a claim she had not wished to share at that time._

_“I think having the chair draped with a scarf of colors that represented Ser Jaime is a thoughtful expression. It is not his fault, nor the fault of Lady Marbrand that her father chose to be a traitor to the Crown. Lest you forget husband, you provide the old lion the opportunity to do so. Ser Jaime kept his word as your Kingsguard. He has earned the recognition, unlike some other men I know ”_

_The heat from Rhaegar’s gaze burned her, but Elia just took it in until she felt nothing from his intent...no judgement, no anger, no guilt._

_“Even in a conversation as mundane as the particulars of our daughter’s wedding can I not escape your constant reminders; as though every morning I am granted another day of life I am not aware of my past mistakes.” Rhaegar’s voice was cool, detached, almost...despondent._

_At this Elia did raise her gaze. “Would you like me to apologize and retract my words? I surely hope not for you have a better chance of the Stranger coming to grant you your final kiss before I would ever protect your sensibilities.”_

_Her husband, the King...yet not hers...shook his head; a sardonic smile gracing his face._

_“No Elia. I do not ask for an apology or retraction. I just wished you wouldn’t see the words or gestures I make as a potential danger or pitfall that you must side step.”_

_A bark of patronizing laughter fled by way of Elia’s lips. “This coming from the man who expects my son to marry a woman to reward a family for helping him keep a realm he helped plunge into war for another woman. A woman I may add who at the time was NOT his wife.”_

_Rhaegar turned away from her. He walked toward the balcony that framed the setting sun over the Blackwater Bay. Leaning against a pillar, he stared out into the distance. Elia remained where she stood, feeling unmoved by his need to escape her words._

_“I will say this once, and I feel no need to have you respond in any way unless you choose too.”_

_There was a long silence. Elia began to question whether Rhaegar had decided to forgo his speech._

_“Even though I should have known better at the time, I didn’t’. I was ignorant, self-important to the point of detriment, my hubris was on a level that defied the capacity of man. That man justified any and all behaviors as right because to question my right, my divinity, my vanity...well that was a path I had no desire to walk. My ego would not let me, and I gladly followed it for it served my best interest at the time.”_

_Elia wasn’t sure if he was finished and honestly she had no idea what to say._

_“I was given a wife. My input was neither consulted nor required. You were supposed to be a means to an end as most political marriages are, I presumed. To hear my father, speak of you and of Dorne, I had thought that I was destined for a marriage of nothing but obligation.”_

_Isn’t that what we were in the end, Elia thought._

_“Then I saw you.” Elia could hear the smile float on his words. She didn’t want to be moved by it, for the words prior picked at the unhealed wound that was the part of her heart that belonged to him._

_“You wore this dress that was unlike any Westerosi fashion I had ever seen. The cerise colored blouse, the orange and gold of your dress and scarf. I had never seen a sari before. Did I ever tell you what you reminded me of when I saw you dressed that way?”_

_Elia licked her lips, wetting them enough for her to speak._

_“No. I don’t call, but then you never spoke to me about who and what I meant to you Rhaegar.”_

_She spent many years in the early part of their separation, once she discovered why he had left, trying to recall every moment they had together. She can’t recall him speaking much about how he felt about her. It served as her rationale for why it was so easy for him to hurt her as he had. She meant nothing, she warranted none of his regard which is why he broke her trust. For it was all one-sided it seemed._

_Elia watched as he nodded, perhaps in assent to her own observations._

_“It wasn’t until you were gone that I realized there was so much I hadn’t told you. I found myself telling it to a ghost. I can tell you it’s a poor substitution, but then I probably don’t need to tell you that; since you are the one who deserved to hear the words without tragedy prompting them.”_

_The silence returned. The large man turned his head and gestured for her to come nearer. Debating whether to comply she finally did when a soft “please” fell from his lips. Elia slowly walk until she stood beside him. His gaze still looking out over the sea. Elia wonder what he was gazing at...was he back in his memories seeing it through a lens she could not._

_“Look.” He gestured at the sky. Elia’s gaze took in the beauty of the setting sun, still unsure of Rhaegar’s meaning._

_“I don’t understand.”_

_He turned he head towards her, leaning down to speak quietly in her ear._

_“You looked like the setting sun over the Blackwater. These colors are the exact ones you wore. My first thought was that you looked stunning, and then the second was how could you be a combination of the unattainable and mine at the same time.”_

_“Unattainable?” She turned her head slightly to catch his indigo gaze._

_“The freedom to chase the sun. I would sometimes imagine if I didn’t have my destiny, if I could walk away, then what would I do with my life. Uncle Aemon found the Nights Watch, but I was drawn to the sea and the sun.”_

_Elia turned away from his gaze and the view. They are just words Elia...words he should have remembered held meaning to him before he had left her...left them._

_“What is the reason for this conversation Rhaegar?” Elia wanted to escape his solar. She wanted to weep in private. He didn’t get to have her tears of hurt...anger, she could offer, but pain, no that was for her and her alone._

_Rhaegar walked towards her, his presence so unintentionally large and looming, a shadow that comes with all men who are sons of kings. A truth she knows to be fact, as her son can cast a strong presence of his own._

_“I know I did not honor you at the start of our marriage; not in the way you deserved. It may not be your burden to carry my awareness of what losing you cost me. I destroyed what we were, you share no blame in that. It is my cross to bear. If things had been different, then you would truly be gone forever...our children...there would be no wedding of us to speak of.”_

_Elia refused to turn back to set her sight upon him._

_“I know your choice to return was not to reunite with me. I know you came for our children. You do not trust me or my household with them. A fear I can’t say isn’t warranted because once upon a time this household sought your death and that of our children.”_

_Closing her eyes, Elia said a prayer that Jaime would send her a bit of his strength to finish this conversation and move on._

_“All I can do is allow you to see how I have changed. We are both aware that you know I’ve changed. I am not the same man I was before. While I may have asked Aegon to marry, I didn’t do it was intent to malign our son so that my son with Lyanna could be free from the responsibilities of his station.”_

_After the shock of the initial announcement, and private conversations with Rhaegar, Elia knew he spoke the truth though she did not like to admit it. She didn’t want her son to marry Lady Margaery, but then she didn’t see her son with anyone but Lia. That dream wasn’t a feasible one if her son chose to be his father’s heir and that was on Aegon’s shoulder to bear, not Rhaegar’s._

_“I accept that you were not trying to free one son by making another pay for your actions.” Elia felt the words she held back since the Tower trickle forth._

_“You speak to me of your guilt for not seeing me as you should have. Yet these revelations came hand in hand with your love for Lyanna. You tell me that you thought your destinies justified your actions, but your marriage didn’t turn it ash when you discovered you were wrong. No, it thrived. You found love, a tried and true love with her in home that you thought I died in...where our children were thought to have perished. Your marriage didn’t turn into duty.”_

_Rhaegar turned her around, cupping her face as he rested his head against hers. His voice ever so gentle, yet resolute._

_“Those may be facts, Elia, but I needed the loss to count for something. I had to discover who I could be without the trappings of that foolish prophecy. I had failed so poorly, the blood on my hands was so plentiful that it still stains my flesh till this day. I didn’t want to hate every facet of my life...and neither did Lyanna. Our marriage has not been perfect. It has been hard...every day it is hard, but we persist because we have chosen to. It is a pledge we have made to each other...to persevere in the face of an easier path.”_

_A choked breath found itself imprisoned in the back of her throat._

_“I stand here and hear you tell me of how you loved me and how you still want me...that you want to build something that is ours, but I don’t know how we can. Your heart is compartmentalized in a way Rhaegar that I just do not understand. I am not built for that kind of match. I don’t think I can split my own love and trust that way.”_

_Rhaegar tilted his head slightly. “You don’t understand how I can love you both or you can’t make yourself split your own affections.”_

_Elia froze, with Rhaegar’s hand on her face, his face lowered...gaze intent. Finding herself walking down a dangerous cliff, Elia leapt; praying she’d survive the fall...praying they all did._

_“I do not like the idea of being one of two women you profess to love. It does not warm my heart Rhaegar, not when I came into this marriage as your only wife. But I have long accepted that the Targaryen in you has found little qualm in embracing such a concept. I on the other hand, when I love I do so with complete fidelity.”_

_“And is there another?”_

_Elia braced herself for the violent impact she predicted her words would yield._

_“Yes.”_

_Rhaegar’s hand slipped from her face. His eyes a flood of colored hues of purples and blue; making his gaze dangerously hypnotic._

_“Who? Is it someone here? In Dorne? By the Gods, Elia. Who?” Rage...his voice was lined with barely controlled rage._

_Knowing she was taking a dagger to the remainder of what twisted affection they held between them, Elia proceeded._

_“Jaime...Jaime Lannister.”_

_Rhaegar recoiled, his eyes widened, the shock rippled through his body and found release in his expression._

_“Ser Jaime. Bu...but he was barely a man.”_

_Elia scoffed._

_“And yet you left him to guard your family. It matters naught. He grew up. We both did.”_

_Her husband flinched, another invisible slap on his pride she thought. Rhaegar walked to his large writing desk. He leaned over it; Elia noticed how his large hands were braced to hold up himself up; fingers curled in such a way she was sure would pierce through the wood._

_“When did it begin?”_

_“Is that your subtle way of asking if Visenya is yours? Elia inquired; brow arched as she watched the tightly coiled man carefully._

_“Perhaps if she took solely after you, but I see enough of myself and my mother to know she is my child, Elia. No, my question isn’t about validating my daughter’s paternity. Its only purpose is to establish when your relationship began.” His voice was controlled...measured, but Elia was not fooled. Rhaegar was furious._

_Elia didn’t want to answer the question. She knew she had nothing to be ashamed of regardless of what the High Septon might decree._

_“When Elia?”_

_Upon taking a cleansing breath, Elia pushed back her shoulders and looked her husband right in the eye._

_“Shortly after Visenya’s sixth nameday.”_

_“Six years...” Rhaegar rose up, his eyes looking towards the balcony once again; the sun long gone._

_“Yes Rhaegar, six years or so after I left.”_

_His gaze seemed guarded, but she could see his mind working...on what she could not say. Something in Elia release though, and she just...let go._

_“What did you think Rhaegar? That you and Lyanna occurred and I jumped into this man’s bed. What part of you broke us...you broke me, that you do not understand?” Elia marched to stand in front of him._

_“I nearly died birthing Visenya. I gave birth to her on a ship, fleeing from a war, forced into labor under the strain of not knowing if I’d survive the sack. Terrified that my children would be killed in front of me, and praying if it was to be so that the sleeping draught that I gave them allowed them to sleep through the violence of their deaths. I nearly died on that ship.”_

_Her voice loud and full of her own anger toward this man and the circumstances she found herself it that were created by his own hand._

_“When we arrived in Dorne, I could barely function Rhaegar.” Elia raged._

_“Breathing hurt because every breath reminded me that you had left me; you married another and continued with no thought of me and our family. There was no pause in your actions.” Wretched sobs escaped as the tears she couldn’t hold fell down her face._

_The only signal that Rhaegar was even listening to her, was the slight tick of the muscles at his jaw. Could he truly hear her, she wondered?_

_Her voice seemed devoid of emotion, perhaps she purged it all._

_“I may have survived the attack on the castle, but the Elia you knew...the one you remember...she died. I don’t know the exact moment when it happened.”_

_Rhaegar turned away from her. He returned to his previous position; leaning against the pillar, his eyes on the darkening sky as the hue bled into the bay._

_Elia sat down at on one of the chairs placed before Rhaegar’s desk. Leaning her upper body forward, her hands clasped before her as she rested the crown of her head on them. She was exhausted, so tired of holding these feeling inside...so tired._

_“It could have been when I realized why you left, or perhaps when your father made me aware of your elopement, it could have been when I had heard Dorne was told to aid you instead of protecting me, possibly when I learned that Uncle Llewyn died._

_She sighed deeply, sitting back against the chair, her gaze on Rhaegar’s still form._

_“Maybe it was when the rumors of a plot to take the keep reached such a fevered state and I thought I had no way out, or it could have been when the realm continued to reward you when they didn’t fight the High Septon when he named you and the woman you chose King and Queen.”_

_Rhaegar’s silhouette showed his head rising...his gaze skyward as his head shook. For a moment she wondered if he was disagreeing with her or reprimanding himself._

_“It felt like it took ages to feel like humanity could touch me once again.” Her voice cracked upon the admission...the one she had never spoken aloud...not even to Jaime; though she is sure he knew._

_“It was only for my children did I feign those human emotions, until one day the feelings felt true. Jaime was instrumental in making me feel again. He didn’t pursue me or court me...not in the traditional sense. He was there...kind, solid, trustworthy, reliable; that was for me the most attractive of qualities. It was a slow burn, until what we had was so powerful it just ignited me back to life.”_

_For a moment Elia could see Jaime standing before her...a specter she was sure of it, but he seemed so real...his smile so encouraging. At the nod of his head, his sanction to something Elia was not ready to agree too. A queen she may now be, but right in this moment Elia was just a heartbroken woman. She pressed the palms of her hands over her eyes, her lips tightly sealed as she tried to keep her sobs from returning._

_With a trembled whisper she spoke the remainder of her mind...for she had said so much and it served no purpose to keep hidden that which is now naked and exposed._

_“You don’t know what it’s like Rhaegar to love someone the way I loved you and to be so violently rejected. You don’t. You’ll never know. I would never wish such an experience on anyone.”_

_Her husband turned his head, and once again she was pinned beneath his gaze. His own expression ravaged, yet she continued for her days of protecting his feelings have long passed. She does not know what the future will hold for them, foes...friends...lovers...but what she does know is that it won’t be built on unrealistic perceptions of each other._

_“But I will not apologize for casting you aside and finding love with Jaime Lannister. I guess in this regards you and I are alike. He is the husband _I chose_. I will not apologize for giving my children a father they could be proud of...one whose integrity they never had to question or whose love they would have reasons to doubt. What you see in them, who they are, they are all products of his influence. It has been years since he has died, but I have not let him go, Rhaegar, nor could I ever.”_

_They stared at each other, both shattered remains of a marriage wrecked by lies, deceit, carelessness, and disrespect. She may not have been the spouse to introduce it into their marriage, but she has contributions of her own. Looking at them now Elia wasn’t sure how they moved passed this._

_Rhaegar stood before her, the desk between them. He seemed as though he were searching for something, but what she could not say. His occasional gaze toward the high ceiling of the chamber, paired with the trembled breathes he took, and the darting glances around the room._

_His voice was hoarse and graveled when he finally spoke._

_“I know there are things I could say. I am not sure if after all you’ve spoken that I am able to speak without adding further damage to us. I am unclear on my feelings regarding this...revelation. I...I...”_

_Elia could catch the wet sheen that covered this man’s beautiful eyes, before he turned away to look back toward the blackening sky._

_He leaned over the ledge, his back tight, his form less like that of a powerful king and more like a shattered man. Elia refused to be bothered by that._

_Hadn’t they both moved on...and oddly enough for the same reasons _“...we persist because we have chosen to.”_ _

_The darkness of the sky crept into the room, the only light to be found came from the sconces that had been lit before they began this conversation. They just stood there in the quiet, surrounded by the rubble of their marriage. Perhaps an hour had passed before Elia’s desire to leave pressed her to speak._

_“Where does this leave us now Rhaegar?”_

_He continued the silence just a bit longer. Elia thought he was going to refuse to answer, until he cleared his voice._

_“Ahem, honestly...me still thinking that after all this time you are still a combination of the unattainable and mine. Maybe the last dragon of Old Valyria was never destined to capture the sun, perhaps its purpose is just to bask in its light.”_

_Damn this man and his poetic words...what was she to do with this? Taking another cleansing breath Elia rose. Her voice gentle, but firm._

_“And would that be enough for the dragon of Old Valyria. Would basking in the light be enough; knowing the sun may never be in your grasp to capture...would it be enough, Rhaegar?”_

_The man, not the King, walked towards her. He stood before her, his wounded eyes gazing at what she was sure were bruised orbs of her own, his hands found purchase in her hair as he pulled her close...her body pressed flushed against his._

_“I think once I consider all that has been revealed, in time you will find that I will take whatever sunlight the sun wishes to bestow on this old dragon...even if the sun has an unattainable dream of her own.”_

_Rhaegar’s lips crushed against hers, a kiss that was...dark, and yet it stirred something in Elia. A feeling she had not felt in a long time...a feeling she was curious enough to explore, perhaps._

_As her husband pulled away, slowly...watchful. He nodded his head. Elia wondered what was it that he saw to elicit a gesture._

_“A chair...with Ser Jaime’s colors...” He took a deep sigh, his eyes still on hers. In that moment Elia held her breath for she hadn’t expected Rhaegar to return to the original topic that started this conversation...let alone utter Jaime’s name after she confessed their relationship._

_“Tell Rhaenys, she must reach out to Lady Marbrand and explain her intentions and gain her approval. Should Lady Marbrand chose to give it, then I will agree to her request. Even if the Lady doesn’t truly approve, I doubt she will deny a princess her wish, but at least she will not be taken off guard. I think it would be a considerate gesture to warn her so that she can prepare her feelings on the matter as she sees fit.”_

_Elia felt a fresh rush of tears pool at her eyes. She thought her ability to cry this much had died along with the Elia of old...along with the Elia that once belonged to the man before her. The Rhaegar of old would not have approved Rhaenys request...no the Rhaegar of old would have dismissed her request with little genuine consideration._

_He may not be the man she once married. There is a divided between them that will never go away; but perhaps they can find a way to build _something_ with their weighted past...the baggage of both the dead and the living. _

_She rose her hand to cup his face. Her thumb tracing his sharp bone of his cheek._

_“I think Rhaenys would prefer to hear this from you.”_

_Rhaegar had a shadow of a smile, when he spoke._

_“Perhaps you are right. You do know her best. I will speak to her before you depart.”_

_“Very good. I am sure she will be pleased by your consent. She does love you, your Grace.”_

_The molted gaze of his indigo eyes threatened to consume her. She pressed a small kiss on his cheek before she slipped from his grasp and out of his chamber._

A ripple of a warm breeze causes the letter to fall onto the ground; returning Elia to the present. She picked up the letter and one again read her husband’s words...words that required a decision of sorts once she returned _home_. 

She placed the letter on the table beside her, and found her hand lifting Jaime cloak onto her lap. Her eyes tried to remember what it looked like before she gifted this to her daughter. If her oldest child was to leave her, then it was time that she received his gift...a reminder to both mother and daughter that he had always been there. 

As Elia prepares herself to pass this on, she wonders if letting go of the material possessions are easier than letting go of the memory of the man. She laughs at herself. Foolish woman...you could never forget this man. 

As Elia once again take a sip of tea, she gentle touches the cloak, thinking today would be the day she’d give it to Rhaenys. Her daughter has mentioned to her the pronounced loss she has felt of Jaime’s presence during this joyous time. Perhaps the gift will ease her both their sorrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?
> 
> I know a number of commenters have been waiting for this revelation.
> 
> Where do you think they go from here? What do you think Rhaegar was thinking/feeling during this exchange?
> 
> This story has two more interludes.
> 
> -Lyanna and Eddard finally have it out.
> 
> -Elia and Lyanna have their own day of reckoning...finally...lol.
> 
> Thank you once again for the support. I never thought a 3 chapter one off to help relieve writer's block would have morphed into this. 
> 
> ~Winter


	4. How the Past Makes a Mess of the Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys receives Jaime’s gift, Ned Stark’s “daughters” finally talk, and Daenerys and Rhaella discuss motherhood and other matters...Aegon comes to Dorne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the interlude helps you make sense of the next scene...offering some background into Elia’s state of mind and where things are in her marriage to Rhaegar.
> 
> Lots of things happening in this chapter...brace yourself. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Dressed in one of her favorite Dornish styled gowns, Rhaenys thinks about how her love describes the North and wonders if such a style would be practical in such a climate. No, she thinks, these types of gowns might need to be left here after this visit. While she is excited to marry Robb, the thought of not seeing the country she grew up in for a long time...if possibly never, saddens her a bit. 

The sun was beginning to depart for the day, the sky still bright, but the scorch of the heat felt like a gentle reprieve from the heat the day usually brings. It was so hot today that Rhaenys felt the need to visit the baths before going to have a private meeting with her mother. 

Seeing the door to her mother’s antechamber, Rhaenys is about to tap her knuckles against the wooden door until she sees her mother through a small opening. Seated at a table with food and drink, sat her mother holding a white cloak. Rhaenys unshed tears stung her eyes, biting her lower lip, as she watches how reverently her mother strokes the garment...the sadness in her countenance. 

Rhaenys turned away from the door and rested her back against the wall. Ser Jaime. 

While she can recognize a sense of completion having her father back in her life, even though he was a man who mostly likely does not deserve her affection, but she grew up with the closest thing to a father with Jaime...and he was a father...and he was...wonderful. 

A woman grown and soon to marry, Rhaenys knows while she and her siblings mourned and carried the grief of a father-figure lost, her mother lives with the loss of a great love. They do not speak of it, but it pains Rhaenys to think that her mother shares her grief with only herself and in secret. 

Taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from her face, she turns back to the door and knocks. 

“Come in.”

“Hi Mama.”

“My Dear come, sit. I have a few of your favorite snacks. Thought they might be a welcome distraction.” Rhaenys took a spot in front of her mother, a table between them. 

“I don’t need to be distracted when spending time with my mother. Soon I will up North, and moments like this will be impossible to recreate. I must savor every opportunity to share time together.” Her mouth reaches out to cup her face. Rhaenys rubs her cheek against the hand that had always brought her comfort her whole entire life. 

“You, my dear girl, will be dearly missed. I do not know how I will survive it. I do not say these things to guilt you, for I truly do like Robb...even if he is related to Queen Lyanna. The Starks will treat you well. There is a sincerity in Lord Stark and his children. Almost as though guile is unable to grow when matched against their sense of honor and duty. They seem sincerely eager to wed you to their heir...he seems very respected by them if a little bit guarded.”

“I did wonder if his family would hate me. Sometimes doubt gets the better of me and those dark thoughts resurface before I can dismiss them.” Taking a cup of her favorite Dornish spiced-pear wine from her mother.

“Hmmm...it is a valid concern. When marriages are sought and weddings concluded, it does not truly matter how the man feels for in the end he will return to his family. The difficulty lies more with the woman, because as the wife, you must leave your family, your home, and everything that reinforces who you are.” 

Rhaenys watched as her mother turned away from her before continuing. “All to go someplace that is not home. A woman should consider herself blessed if she should find herself in such a union where her husband’s family embraces her. It can be soul-shattering if she is not.” Elia’s sad smile made Rhaenys speak words she normally would not.

“Was that how it was for you?” She lowered her eyes. Her mother’s deep breath trembled as she exhaled.

“Unfortunately, Rhae, it seems as though my path in life and love was written to be littered with hardship. But to answer your question, yes, it was hard being a bride and wife. Your grandmother Rhaella was good and kind to me. She was so at a cost, for your grandfather would take out her quiet rebellion against him by being kind towards me out in trade. He hurt her for it. Gods the man was vile.”

“And Father?” Rhaenys knew the story after Herrenhal, but she never pried into the orgins out of respect for her mother. In her mind she didn’t think the beginning matter, not when it ended as it had. 

Sighing deeply, Elia’s warm eyes and gentle smile, eased Rhaenys’s guilt at bringing up such a topic.

“Your father was unfailingly polite. Rhaella would stand for nothing less.” Her mother’s smile tugged at Rhae’s own lip. “He was just as unsure as I was, and like me he knew marriage alliances were part of our duty. But I remember how kind he was...” Elia’s voice tapered off as her eyes stared blindly, as if in a memory Rhaenys’s could not see. 

“Kind?”

“He would always make it a point to break fast with me every day, and he would order the kitchens to always stock my favorite Stony Dornish teas grown in the Red Mountains. Every day he would seek me out to take a turn about the gardens. Every night he would invite me to sit out on the balcony and with a decanter of wine and we would talk...about his day, mine, and eventually yours, or play a game or an instrument...sing. Your grandfather may have despised me, but your father never made me feel like he shared the same sentiment. Until the end, I thought we had built genuine care between us, if not love.”

Rhaenys thinks about the conversation she overheard her parents having at the tower, and few she has stumbled upon in search of one of her parents. “Do you think my father loves you?”

Elia confused expression makes Rhaenys’s wish she had not spoken. “What makes you ask such a question, dear?

“I see him with you...and with Queen Lyanna...and I have my own thoughts on why he can be so dogged in his pursuit of you. There is a part of me that is curious to know how you interpret his feelings. Do you love him in return? Can you trust yourself to believe him to tell you the truth after tremendous betrayal?” Rhaenys knows that no matter how good intentioned people may be, betrayals can always occur in a marriage. She wonders what she could do to trust herself, if she could trust herself, if she found herself faced with such heartbreak.

“He says he does. He has his own definition of what love looks like, what it feels like. I believe for him it comes from an organic place inside of him. In that way it makes him sound like everyone else. Do I think he loves me?” 

Elia shakes her head. “If you had asked me this when he first came to Dorne my answer would have been a resolute...no. But it has been almost two years and my answer isn’t so clear. I think he knows he made reckless decisions that came with costly consequences. He had no restraint in that regard as a young man, but the man he is now is not so uncontrolled. He is more thoughtful, cautious, grounded...responsible in a way that I don’t remember ever being.”

“I guess as a king this has worked to make be a better ruler, even a better man, but I am not his subject so my feelings as a woman...as a wife...hold him to a different standard.” Rhaenys’s felt a sense of foreboding. 

“For all the changes I see in him, I can’t help but be hurt by his past decisions. It is not as I have subtle reminders of his betrayal. I have many living ones...beginning with his other wife.” Her mother purses her lips as she finds a bit of biscuit on her lap, dusting it off she returns her gaze back to Rhaenys. 

Rhae thinks she has some understanding of those feelings. It is difficult for her remain in the same spaces as Queen Lyanna. While the other woman has been cordial and respectful, Rhaenys finds herself having rude thoughts about her. As much as she like her siblings, they too remind Rhaenys of their father’s humiliation of their mother...regardless of his apology, guilt, and remorse. The living memory of his actions still exist. 

“Once upon a time I was filled with such anger and rage. It fed me, this resentment. Then it shifted into a kind of profound hurt, and the further I was away from him and her, the easier it was to just put these feelings away in a box.”

“Making space for Ser Jaime.” Rhaenys reached for her mother’s hand. Those tears making a stinging appearance once again. 

A brilliant smile tore her mother’s lips a part, joy clearly shown on her face. “Oh yes. I wasn’t looking for it Rhae. Even in my rage and hurt, I still loved your father. My love for his was matched by my hate and it was...boundless. I was just trying to put one foot before the other. Just trying to live, so I could be a mother, and a sister, and a friend. I didn’t see him the way a woman sees a man, until one day I did.”

“For as long as I could remember it was always you and Jaime with us. I know if he were still alive, that he would be a complication...for you and the King, but I can’t help missing him so and wishing he were here. Do you think he’d like Robb?” A single tear slipped past her closed lids as her words ended on a question. 

“Oh Rhae, I miss him too my fierce little dragon.” Elia rose to sit beside her, pulling her into her arms, resting Rhaenys head on her shoulder as they both weep for the man they loved and lost. Her mother always felt small, but so strong. While she hopes she can be half as strong as her mother, she hopes she never find herself in a situation that would require her to access the depths of such strength. 

Her mother’s gentle laughter tickled her ear. Rhaneys held her tighter before releasing her. “I think initially he would not have been too keen on him being a Stark, if I were to be honest.” 

“I think he understood Lord Brandon’s desire to call your father out on taking his sister...and at that time, we thought he had taken her for there was nothing telling us otherwise. He loved his own sister deeply and I think Brandon’s actions pulled at something within Jaime.”

Rhaenys thinks of Aegon and should he thought she had been taken, there would be nothing stopping her brother from trying to bring her home. 

“Then Eddard fought, by its nature an act of treason, but again I do not think Jaime held that against him...not when in the end all was revealed that Lyanna left willingly. I think he pitied Lord Eddard, to carry the knowledge that the death of his father, brother, and all the men who lost their lives, all the women who lost husbands, and children who lost fathers...came at the hands of his beloved sister.”

Elia reached for her own cup of wine and took a sip. “It’s not those Starks that Jaime would have issue with, but Lyanna would have cast a distasteful shadow for him. I do think that once he saw how that young man looks at you and how you look at him...once he pushed through this paternal dislike and saw the fond looks, he would have approved of the young man. I do not think any man would be good enough for you or Vissy, but Robb Stark might be the closest thing, my love.”

“It doesn’t feel right that he will not be here for my wedding.” Rhaenys murmurs. “I know father would not have liked him there but he would have understood. I think he would have accepted Ser Jaime there for me.” 

“Your father is very much aware of how important Jamie was to all of us.” Her mother paused. “I think I made it clear to him the part Jaime played in bringing us safely to Dorne, and how he served as an important figure for us all.” Elia placed her goblet down, her eyes staring off into the distance. 

“I wish there was a way I could have him there...right beside me.” Rhaneys murmured as she rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. “I mean other than father agreeing to Ser Jaime having a symbolic place of honor at the high dais with the family.” 

Intertwining her arms with Elia’s, both women sit in comfortable silence. Shared between them were stoic expressions and sips of wine while each woman ponders the man. After a long while, her mother rose.

“Well perhaps there is another way that you can.” Elia said in a somewhat distracted voice. Standing up to walk back to her seat, Elia reaches for the white cloak Rhaenys’s saw her holding before. “I think that we could take Jaime’s old white cloak and add it to your wedding dress.”

The thought excited Rhaenys...to know that Ser Jaime would be there with her without offending the sire she cares for, but then she realizes to take this garment away would mean to take what little her mother has of him. That is something she cannot bring herself to do. 

“Mama, It’s too much. This is yours, and I don’t have the heart to take it away.” Rhaenys looked up to her mother who was now standing before her. 

“Rhae. While I have a sentimental attachment to this cloak, it has never been mine. It was always meant to be yours. This is why I asked you to join me for a private talk. Before Jaime died, he left behind items he wanted you all to have to remember him by...things to have should I no longer be around to help you keep his memory. He wanted you to have his cloak.”

“Oh Mama.” Overcome with emotions, Rhaenys took the garment into her hands and brought it to her face, hoping for the scent of sandalwood and orange, but knowing that it would not be there. The dam that typically holds her feelings in restraint shattered and her tears fell at the thoughtful gift as her heart broke again for loss of losing the man who raised her.

After her tears turned to hiccupped sighs, Rhaenys turned to her mother. “Do you really think I can add it to my dress...or at least part of it.”

“I do not see why not. The dress is being made in Dorne. If we send the cloak by rider to Sunspear then that should be enough time for them to add it in some way.”

“Then that is what I would like to do. Thank you mother.”

“You are most welcome, my dear.”

*****

Daenerys Baratheon was no longer in any position to walk beyond the walls of her own chambers. Her small waist extended as far as it could go with the weight of her babes. These days if she is to seek company of those visiting the keep, then they must come to her.

This is what brings her dearest friend Margaery to her solar today. 

“So, my dear, how are you fairing now that your latest companion has seen himself off to Kings Landing...at the behest of his father, no less.” Daenerys inquired just before taking a sip of tea that the maester suggested to help her with the uncomfortable indigestion her little ones have sparked in her. 

Margaery immediately looked down to the glass of peach wine from the Reach, her smile small, but her blush fierce. Dany couldn’t help the smirk that blossomed on her own face. 

“I must admit that I have notices a coldness where once his warm shadow followed.” The striking brunette bit her lip, her eyes looking uncertain. “I am scared to share my feelings, Dany, for what if your brother decides we do not suit, what if I am turned away from a third dragon. After getting to know Aegon, I don’t think my heart could sustain the fallout...not this time.”

Dany’s smirk dissipated as she imagine what her friend must be feelings. She always knew she would marry Renly. It was never a debatable question. Unlike many women of her station she was given the chance to know him before marrying. When the time came for her to pick her wedding day, she had little fear that Renly did not return feelings for her. In her heart she knows that they were a duty match that found love. She can’t but wish such a fate for her friend. 

“Do you love Aemon, Marg?”

The young brunette turned her head away, but Dany could see the tears covering her lovely brown eyes. Her lower lip quivered, as she dipped her head down. In a whispered voice, she said what Dany could plainly see. 

“Yes. I think I do...I’m just afraid.”

“I should not say this, but the reason Aemon has been recalled to the Red Keep is because Aegon has left for Dorne, and Jaehaerys has gone North. When I asked him if he thought his father would expect that he take the mantle of Crown Prince he told me he would serve as his King wished.”

“His brothers truly left. Do you think he might be crowned so?”

“I don’t see what other option Rhaegar has, other than Daeron, but that seems so unlikely.”

“Do you think he would want to marry me if his father demanded it?”

Daenerys sent her friend a genuine smile. “I asked a similar question, and his response was quite telling.” She took another sip to quell her stomach.”

“What did he say, Dany? Please do not leave me with such suspense. The anticipation is too painful to withstand.” Margaery gripped her hand, her eyes wide with...hope...Dany thought.

“Alright, I will tell you. He said it would be a pleasure, and that if his father had qualms of marrying you to him that he would personally put those concerns to rest...and name you the woman he would marry.”

“No! Tell me you speak the truth, Dany. Aemon will ask for my hand.” Margaery’s voice came out in a whispered breath. 

Laughing at the excitement vibrating through Marg, Dany shook her head in affirmation. “Yes, my dear. He is a very determined young man. If I were you...I’d begin to concern yourself with preparation for a royal wedding.

*****

“What do you mean you can’t be a witness to my wedding Lia?” Rhaenys voiced. Her confusion and hurt evident in her tone.

“I can’t Rhae. I can’t be there...in Court. I am sorry.” Lia turned away from the two women who had been her closest friends...her sisters in many respects. Reaching for an orange, she sought a task to keep her hands occupied. 

“Lia you are my oldest friend. We grew up together...you were my first sister. I never imagined getting married without you there.” Rhaenys spun her around by her shoulders. 

“Nor I.” Visenya chimed, her voice just as confused as her sister’s. Standing beside her sister, he searched Lia’s face for some type of answer to a question Lia could only guess at. 

“Is it Aegon?” Visenya guessed.

“Seeing Aegon would be extremely difficult, but for you I could push pass that I think.” Lia bit her lip. 

“Is it because you’re a bastard? You know that means nothing to us. Our cousins will be there as well. I am not ashamed of you and I dare you not to allow them to shame you. You are everything good, Lia. Please...” Rhae’s pleading eyes were hard for Lia to resist. Many times, she found herself in trouble following those eyes when she as a child. Harmless fun in comparison to what following Rhae would bring her now. 

She really wanted to avoid this conversation, but it looked as though fate had it limits. “That’s only part of it.” Lia pulled away from her friend and gestured for them to sit . 

“The reason I don’t, can’t go, is because of my father.”

“Your Father.” The sister’s exclaimed in unison.

“What I am about to tell you only a handful of people know. My mother, my aunt Allyria, your mother, your uncles Doran and Oberyn. Edric’s father knew and so did your Ser Jaime, but the secret passed on with them. You must promise never to reveal it. Not even to Aegon. No one could ever know!” Lia pleaded with them to understand and to agree. 

Rhaenys and Visenya looked towards each other. A silent sisterly communication that Lia could decipher, being how they tended to include her in such conversations. They looked towards her and nodded. “We promise.”

Taking a deep breath, Lia sat forward, clasping her hands before her, eyes on her friends...seeking strength. 

Visenya sat before Lia’s feet and took a hold of her hands. Her violet eyes entreating Lia to speak. “It’s okay Lia. Whatever it is...whomever it is. We will still be here and your secret we will keep.”

“This truth stands to destroy what little peace I have. It will resurrect my mother’s youthful indiscretions and drag her though the vileness all over again. It will also drag my father and his family through it...and they are not deserving of it.”

“Very well. You have our word.” Rhaenys sat beside her, placing her hand on top her hers and Visenya’s.

A long moment had passed before Lia was able to form the words that she never shared with another. 

“My mother met my father at the tourney in Harrenhal. That much of the rumor is true. She met a young man, a young son of a high lord. My mother says they came to love each other...it was quick and sudden...but she believed it true. They laid together and it was there that I was conceived...as the rumor goes.” Stopping to lick at her chapped lips she continued. 

“When she returned to Kings Landing she had discovered she was pregnant. Your grandfather dismissed her, but in that time your mother had given birth to Aegon, and he had run away with Lyanna. My mother tried to contact my father, but by then Lord Stark and his heir had died and the banners had been raised. She learned that a few marriage alliances had been made to fight in the South.”

“Your father was one that had to marry?” Rhae asked.

“Yes. He married the woman his older brother was betrothed to...a brother who died along with his father...at the hands of King Aerys.” Lia could feel the stillness that took over her friends, as she is known to do she went inside herself as the revelation was unspoken. 

As the tears she typically kept hidden crested and fell over her eyes, tears fell down her pretty face, and the sisters of her heart moved to hold her in their arms.

“My father was never Brandon Stark. He was always Eddard...” Lia murmured so quietly that she wasn’t sure the Targaryen sisters heard her. 

“Oh Lia. I wish I had known. I wouldn’t have brought his daughters here.” Rhaenys whispered in her ears. 

“Can’t you see why I must not go to the capital. I think...I think...he might figure it out. I don’t think I am strong enough to weather his disinterest or worse his regret. Please don’t make me.” Visenya wiped Lia’s tears with her thumbs. 

Turning Lia’s head to look at her, the fierce sun dragon’s words eased her emotional turmoil. “I will not push you to give me more than you can my friend...never. If you cannot be there, then give me this for I will treasure our time here for as long as I can until I return to see you and Dorne again.”

The women held each other as they served as balm and support for each other, just as they always have...like their mothers had been for each other.

*****

“You’d think with how late we are to go to bed here we would sleep in late like everyone else.” Arya’s voice grumbled as she and Sansa walked through the gardens as the sky barely lighten to welcome the new day.

“If being here a sennight has told us anything is that our Northern wake up routines will dominate no matter how much we work towards the contrary.” A snicker escaped Sansa. 

As the sisters walked out of a small maze, they found a part of the garden littered with all kinds of roses. The sight made Sansa think of Lady Margaery Tyrell...the Rose of Highgarden who would be poised to marry the man she loved. 

Arya released her arm as she ran towards these flowers that had the look of a blue northern rose. “How is this possible? A winter rose in the middle of Dorne.”

“I don’t know. Perhaps its not.” Sansa mused as she looked carefully at the flower. 

A gentle sigh followed by the words, “It’s not a true winter rose. It just looks like it.” 

Both sisters yelped in surprise.

“Gods you scared the life out of us.” Arya swore, followed by a laugh when she realized who had spoken.

“My apologies. I rarely see anyone in the gardens at this hour of the morning. Late risers most Dornish are...except for perhaps Prince Doran.” Lia apologetically smile at them. 

“Have you always been an early riser?” Sansa queried. 

“Yes...ever since I was a babe.”

“Can you tell us about the rose? What do you mean it’s not a true winter rose? It really looks remarkably like one.” Arya eyes were back on the flower, Sansa noticed the soft smile on Lia’s face...a smile very much like her Aunt Lyanna when she deign to use it. 

“I put together a Dornish rose a winter rose. I play around with the right conditions until the roses thrive. This flower does have elements of the winter rose, but altered so that it can sustain itself in a Dornish climate.” Her _sister’s_ voice seemed so confident and sure as she explained how this flower came to be to Arya.

“Much like you, wouldn’t you say?” Arya hiked a brow as her eyes slanted while looking upward at the taller dark-haired woman.

“Arya!” Sansa exclaimed. “Pardon me, my Lady.”

“What! Are we seriously going to not address this Sansa?”

“Maybe she does not know, Arya. Had you considered that.”

“So, you’ve heard the rumors...about my mother and Lord Brandon I see. You needn’t worry of their merit. Your father is the Lord and Warden of the North. I am not the issue of Brandon Stark, of that I can assure you.” Lia looked down and away. 

“Do you know who your father is?”

“Arya!” Sansa wishing, she was close enough to her sister to pull her away. The impropriety of such questions would have Catelyn Tully rising from the grave. 

“Lady Arya, at the risk of sounding rude why _is_ the note of my parentage a concern of yours.

Arya’s eyes seemed to beg Sansa to share the truth she had told her. 

“She probes because she is nosey, but she asks because the resemblance is very telling. Stark blood is strong...though by looking at me and my brothers it would be hard to see.”

Lia looked away from Sansa’s face and returned her gaze to the flower before her. 

“I see.”

“You share the same shape and color of eye as Arya, our cousins, our aunt and father. The shape of your face is similar...though I can see your mother in there too. Your hair curls like our Aunt Lyanna’s and cousin Jaehaerys. Standing next to Arya it makes one question but if you were to stand next to our Aunt Lyanna...I think the resemblance would be more notable.”

“So, you think me Lord Brandon’s daughter even though I told you he is not.” Lia’s voice was cool, and yet there was a tremor of something Sansa could not identify. 

Arya placed her hands on Lia’s as Sansa rested her hand on hers. 

“No, we don’t.”

“Then what is this?” The tremor more pronounced to Sansa’s ears. 

“We think you are the daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.” Sansa whispered.

“We think you are our half-sister.” Arya chimed in trying to reassure the young woman who went paler than was healthy.

“Explain yourselves or leave.” Lia demanded as she pulled away from their touch...not that Sansa could blame her. 

“Our father was trying to...comfort me in regards to matters of the heart...and he spoke of loving someone he had to say goodbye to because duty demanded it. A love that he still held on to, even as he made room for our mother...a love he still holds onto today.”

“No...” A breathless word escaped Lia’s lips. 

Sansa wasn’t sure how to feel. Here stood the living embodiment that her father loved another...loved another so much that he crossed a boundary that most would judge him for...and by extension her family. Such consequences have been the bane of her families existence since her aunt eloped with the King. Yet she could not leave this alone for Lia should know that their father loved her mother and her father should know he has another daughter. 

“It is true. I have no reason to think he would lie. While the honorable Eddard Stark learned to love his wife and she him, he had always loved Ashara Dayne and many years ago he loved her in such a way that a child could have been created.”

“How do you know this? Fathers do not speak thusly towards their daughters.”

“Ordinarily I’d agree, but I’ve met Oberyn.” Arya tried to enter levity into a very tense conversation. 

Trying to explain why the stoic Eddard Stark would give such information to his own daughter was difficult when she didn’t want to divulge her own reasons why the conversation occurred. 

“As I said, I had my own issues of the heart and I think he told me to serve as a cautionary tale to guard myself...in when in love.”

“Oh...”

“The truth remains that we think you are his daughter and we would like to get to know you...as sisters should.” The younger Stark sister reached out to gently touch Lia’s arm. 

“I am.” Lia whispered.

“Pardon me...” Sansa asked.

Her voice firmer and certain. “I am his daughter.” 

“You knew.” Arya’s voice held a bit of surprise. 

“I’ve always known.” Lia looked at them both, her eyes clear yet sad, and Sansa knew she spoke the truth. 

A comfortable silence held the newly formed sisterhood, until Arya’s voice pierced the quiet morning. 

Looking back at the flower, and with her trademark smirk on her lips, Arya asked “So, what is this rose called. The Northern Sand Rose or the Dornish Winter Rose?”

***,**

It has been a moon’s turn since they had left Starfall. In the Water Gardens Elia and her family sat enjoy the cool breeze that occasionally brushed by, diminishing the heat just a bit.

“Your Grace, a letter from the harbor from your son Prince Aegon.” The maester hands Elia the missive in question. 

“Thank you.” Breaking the seal, her eyes widen as she scans the contents. Rhaenys and Visenya share a glance between them and their cousins Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene. 

“Aunt Elia, what is wrong?” Tyene inquired, her eyes just as sharp as her father’s.

“It seems as though Aegon has decided to join us. He should be here in a day’s time. Perhaps this time tomorrow it would seem.” The Queen’s turned head and faraway gaze had Rhaenys and Visenya standing up. 

“Perhaps it is best that we meet him before he arrives.” Obara suggested as she flipped her newest dagger in her hand, her father’s playful grin etched across her face.

“And tell him what? That he is not welcome here. He and Lia have always made it a point to say that we should not let their personal issues cloud how we have always operated. While I feel for them both, I think we should honor their request.” Elia admonished, though her heart broke more for the girl than it did her son, if truth be told. 

“Mother!” Visenya rose her outrage clear on her face.

“We do not even know why he is here.” Her face in complete neutrality, Elia reminded her daughters to give their brother a chance to speak his reasons come coming. 

“How could you permit it? You know how she feels about him, and now he is to marry Margaery Tyrell...it is all too much. It is not right to put Lia in such a position.” Rhaenys questioned, her own dismay evident in her voice. 

“Nys, nothing is confirmed regarding the Tyrell girl. However in this regard I must say your brother might be more like your father than we would like to admit. Do you think I wanted Rhaegar to come to my home? I didn’t stop him from coming to say what he needed to say. _You wanted to hear it...you need to and I understood that, so I left._ I think we should at least listen to what he has to say, there could be a good reason for this sudden arrival, but I would understand if _you left_. The Queen’s arched eyebrow telling her daughters more with her expression than with her words.” 

“Very well. Duly noted.” Rhaenys and her sister shared a glance and silent conversations turning they left their cousins with their mother. 

Riding away from the gardens and down the route, the harbor not too far from the beach. They both know that their brother could be in the gardens right this moment as the ride is about less than an hour away from the sea. The only reason for the delay to was to give them time, but for what they were not sure. 

As they rode around a rocky mountain, the had to pull the reins on their steeds to make for a quick stop, for seated before them on a stallion of his own stood their brother Aegon Targaryen.

Dressed in Targaryen colors and a brooding morose expression he looked more like their father and less like the laughter-prone Ser Jaime. 

“Aegon. Are you okay? What is wrong?” Trying to remember her mother’s words, she attempted to give the brother she love dearly the benefit of the doubt...she held out hope that he wasn’t here to inadvertently harm Lia, that his presence has nothing to do with Lia. 

“Hello Sisters. I am on my way to fine, if I am entirely honest.” A shadow of Aegon’s trademark smirk appeared. “I need to speak with Lady Ashara.”

Looking at each once again, the sisters realized they won’t get more from their brother for his countenance is familiar, but it’s clear they are both speculating on why Aegon desires to meet with their mother’s dearest friend and Lia’s mother.

*****

“Dearest have you seen Renly today?” Rhaella asked her daughter as the heavily pregnant woman popped a grape into her mouth.

“He mentioned something about handling a local dispute between some minor lords. Its slipped my mind on who. It seems I can’t seem to retain much these days.” Daenerys spoke as she tried her hardest to remember who her husband had told her of. She didn’t want him to think that the time he took to share how the bannermen and people were wasn’t important to her. They were her people now, even if they aren’t particularly warm towards her. She understands where it comes from. 

“Hmmm...interesting. I find that he is rarely about the Keep, and no one, not even his steward knows where to find him.” Her mother’s purple eyes, so much like her own, leveled a penetrating stare. 

“I do not know what to say to that. He is a busy man. Perhaps Ser Loras could be of assistance. Though I find the real question being, why do you need to know the whereabouts of my husband. He isn’t Robert Baratheon. There is no need to worry that he is spreading his seed leaving bastards in his wake.” 

Daenerys glared at her mother. Upset at the intimation her mother is making of her husband...her husband who has done nothing to make her doubt his sincerity of their marital vows. A pain shot across her abdomen, a feeling that has been increasing in pressure since the morning. 

Not a least bit unruffled her mother continued with a neutral expression. “I’d ask Ser Loras but it seems he is always gone as well. I’ve asked his squire, but the young man doesn’t know where he is either.” 

Rhaella leans forwards with an arched brow of her own. “And asks not because I assume Renly is spreading his seed across the Stormlands. I ask because you could have these babes any day now, and if that were to occur while he is gone then how do we get word to him. Should a man not be told when he is about to become a father?”

“Oh!” Feeling a contrite, Daenerys sends her mother an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry Mother. Lately it seems like I get crossed about the most innocent of reasons. Yesterday I nearly took Renly’s head off when he asked if it were alright if he went on a hunt with Loras after attending Rhaenys wedding.”

“I do not think that is an innocent reason considering you are new parents. It is understandable if you felt slighted by the request. Learning to be a parent is hard, but in our world I think it might be harder. Know how and what to do is always a challenge...even with all these rules and expectations.” The Queen Mother brought Dany a cup of fresh pear juice. Gently squeezing her hand as she placed the glass in her hands. 

“I know. It’s just what is he supposed to do with two newborn babes. If the men are going on a hunt, then there really is no reason for him to be here. I think I am the most important factor here considering I intend to nurse them.”

“Hmmmm...woman of our station rarely do such an act. Wet nurses have always been a valuable asset for highborn women...an honorable duty. Please do not forget that. There is no shame is having one or two.”

“I want my children to know only my breast...my milk. I am their mother.” Daenerys said firmly for she truly desires to nurse her children, but gently for she did not want to judge her mother for not doing so...her mother barely survived her birth...she would not judge her for doing what he needed to in order to heal, in order to survive. 

“Lyanna felt the same. She was quite adamant about it. Especially when Daeron was difficult to nurse.” Rhaella seemed caught in a memory as she spoke. 

“Yes. She told me she found much joy in it. I imagine Elia used a wet nurse, but again I heard her pregnancy almost killed her too. I think there is no shame in choosing another way.” Another clenching sensation pulled Daenerys attention back to her womb. She took to rubbing her babes to sooth the discomfort. 

“Well Elia’s pregnancies were challenging, but she nursed when she could. I think it was important to her as well. Unfortunately, due to her health, the children required a wet nurse to ensure they had enough to eat.” Rhaella took a bite of lamb cheese from the tray set before her. 

“It’s not always a given that a mother will have enough, even if she desired to feed her own children from her breast. Consider one dear...just in case.” Her mother’s words were sensible. She didn’t want her pride to be stronger than her desire to see her children well-fed and healthy. “Are you okay my dearest?”

Taking in a deep breath, Dany reassures her mother. “I am fine. The babes are feeling a bit more restless that usual.”

Rhaella smiled at her, a gentle nod of her head. “I remember those days. A telling sign that the babes are soon to come.”

“I am excited though I wish I could have made it to the wedding. I am sure it will be quite the event.” Dany mused as she grimaced at the wave of uneasiness crossed her. 

“So, Renly will attend a hunt after the wedding. Do you know where? Close by?” Her mother inquired, sending Dany a commiserating frown.

Trying hard to remember her husband’s word, she recalled his desire to visit Highgarden as the hunt nearby. “The Reach, I think.” 

With a furred brow Rhaella pulls Dany into her concerned gaze. “Doesn’t it concern you how closely tied Renly seems to be to the Tyrell’s.” 

“Mother, please do not start with this again. Renly was fostered there. He has no ill-feelings towards the Tyrells. While he was their ward, they treated him well, and Loras and Margaery are dear to him. They could only have such places in his affections if the family was permissive. Do not make it out to be something sinister.”

“Dany, while I do think Renly is kind he does have reasons to be angry with the Targaryens. Many of his bannermen feel the same. Now that there are some concerns about your nephews not marrying Lady Margaery, it is not outside of the realm of possibility that the Tyrell’s might prey on that relationship. Perhaps forcing you to have to side against your brother...the King...should Renly and the Stormlands decide to ally with the Tyrells.”

“Mother, there is no love between the Reach and the Stormlands...at least not to that degree. They wouldn’t rise for the Tyrell’s and not for Margaery even if Renly desired it so...which he wouldn’t.” Dany could feel her temper rising along with the increase in the aches. 

“They may not rise ordinarily, no, but to rise in defiance against the Targaryens...a shared enemy...then yes, I think they would. What I don’t understand is why would you chance it?” Her mother’s tone set Dany’s teeth on edge; speaking to her as if she were a child. The annoyance so high it forces her to awkwardly bring herself to a standing position. 

“You are the one being difficult. Searching for enmity where there is none, and even if there were it would not see us here. It would be for Rhaegar to solve...but rest assure I am not so heartless towards my brother for I do love him dearly. Margaery will marry Aemon. He is in Kings Landing getting his request to do so from his father. I am sure of it. So please enough with this unsightly conjecture.” 

Upon her raised voice, a tone she had never used against her mother, was the catalyst that pushed Daenerys past the point of no return. The puddle that gathered mysterious at her feet caused both her and her mother to pause, violet eyes met violet eyes, as the truth dawned on them. 

A sharper pain moved through her that nearly brought her to her knees. The babes were on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, many of you might be wondering how Rhaenys will use the cloak...all will be revealed at her wedding...so stay tuned.
> 
> What did you think of the Stark sister reunion? (Is it really a reunion though...lol.)
> 
> Dany...ever idealistic...
> 
> Aemon back in KL, Jaehaerys in Winterfell, Aegon in Dorne...dun, dun, dun.
> 
> Thanks for hanging in there.
> 
> ~Winter


	5. To New Beginnings with Echos of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashara confronts Aegon before he can find Lia. Jaehaerys brings news and intent from the South to his Uncle Eddard in Winterfell. Rhaenys spends the eve before she returns to Kings Landing with an unexpected person. Aemon returns to Storm's End to meet the newest members of the Baratheon household. A pledge is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. I write the story I'd like to see, and if you find some pleasure reading the story too, then I am glad to share it.

Word of Aegon’s coming made its way to Ashara by way of being in the presence of Elia when the news arrived. Ashara felt torn by her feelings for the young man. 

If she looked at him from the lens of the little boy she knew and loved, then all was right in their world. However, if she looked at him from the perspective as a man who has bruised her daughter’s heart, then there was...discord. 

She knew he was here to see her daughter, and the mother in her...the one who has always been her daughter’s protector...found it nearly impossible to let this matter rest solely in the hands of Aegon and her daughter. Her own past creating a potential pathway for her own daughter’s future. 

As she made her way to Aegon’s rooms, she wonders if her need to act comes from her own deep wish that someone had the knowledge and the wherewithal to intercede before she and Ned crossed a line that couldn’t be undone. 

Just as she turned the corner past Visenya’s chambers, she heard the door of the room she had intended to visit open, pausing in mid-stride as Aegon exited the doorway. 

Gods how he looked like his father, Ashara thought. She knew the young man was less Rhaegar, and more his own man, but it was sometimes hard to remember when that father-son resemblance pulled at her old memories of conflicts Elia had with her husband. 

“Ashara!”

“Prince Aegon.”

“Please Ashara, just Aegon. We know each other way too long and too well to be so formal when the situation does not call for it...and the Water Gardens never call for it.” His smile was so open and welcoming. She could see how her daughter saw safety in it. 

“I think the matters of which I want to speak of lend itself to the need for such propriety.”

The pause left at the end of her declaration seemed to reframe the context of their meeting. His eyes taking on a resigned expression. 

“Ah, I see. My Lady.” He gestures for her to enter the antechamber of his quarters.

Seeing no need in drawing out her point, Ashara went directly to her concern. 

“Prince Aegon, I have stayed my distance in matters between you and my daughter. I’ve observed and provided my daughter with criticism and concerns I had about your closeness towards each other. I’ve shared my fears with your mother.”

Ashara walked towards the open terrace that led to a small garden and pool. Thinking of how to proceed, for while she will always firmly be in her daughter’s court, she does love this young man...and not only because he is the child of her dearest friend but because she helped raise him. She did not want to damage the affection they had for each other. 

“However, I never approached you. I never considered you a true danger to her, and perhaps that was my own folly. You have always been good for her and with her that I never considered that there may be a time that you would not be there for her.”

“Lady Ashara, I love your daughter. You know that.”

“Yes, but you love your crown more...or rather you want to love your duty to your father as his Crown Prince more.”

“That is not complete true. It’s not the title I wanted; it was the man. As honored as I am by being raised by Jaime Lannister, I still wanted to know my own father...faults and all. I just hadn’t truly known what it would all mean.” She could hear him walking to stand beside her, his own eyes on the pool before them. 

“Mother tried to explain, but in all honesty I never thought he’d make me Crown Prince...not when he had and established one in Jaehaerys. After all I grew up believing that anything and everything that came from Queen Lyanna would always be put as priority. How was I to know that it wasn’t completely true?”

Ashara turned to look up sadly at the young man. Oh Rhaegar, do you truly know how much damage you have caused your children.

“I thought I would leave Dorne. Learn about my father and the other side of my family. I had hoped to come back and settle in Dorne...leave the daily living of Court behind...and return to Lia.”

“Your letters made it seem like you had planned to follow your father’s path for you?” Ashara bent down to look at the small school of golden colored fish as they swam near a lily pad. She refused to look at him for she wanted to remain strong and seeing him in unhappiness moved her. 

“I found it hard to tell him no...until now.”

His response caused her to stand resolutely before him.

“What do you mean until now?”

“I came back because I want a life with Lia. Since I was told I had to marry this...Lady Margaery, I found myself being told it was my duty and that to choose to marry for love was not a reality for one of my station. It gnawed at me to hear it from my Father’s Hand and from the man himself. The gall to tell me that I could not have my love when he brought a nation to its knees for his.”

“Lia would not want war...she would not want to be the bringer of discord and violence. You know this Aegon. After knowledge of your own history, of your own Father not keeping to his duty, why would you choose this and why would you bring my daughter into it?”

“My Father’s failure was in not keeping to his duty. You are right. Instead of keeping to my mother he sought another, and I care not for his reasons why. The fact remains he broke his oath with my mother, but I have done no such thing. My duty is to marry Lady Margaery _or I step aside._ The duty to marry the Lady resides with the son who chooses to take up the mantle. If I am unwilling to do it, then my duty is to relinquish my role to the brother who will honor the pledge. I have told my father that I am willing to do that, if Lia is not an option. It is an oath I am willing to keep. I swear by it.”

Ashara saw the fierce sincerity blazing from this young man’s eyes. His love and devotion to her daughter was hard to ignore...she can see why Lia holds on so steadfast to it. 

“So, you are willing to walk away from it...from all of it if your father demanded so.” Ashara needed the confirmation. 

“Yes. Will I be remembered as the Prince who brought war and dissonance to the country...no, for I am not my father.” Reaching for Ashara’s hand, she felt the gentle pressure he applied...as delicate as a butterfly’s fluttering wings...but still firm enough to command her attentions. 

“Whether I am the Prince of the Six Kingdoms or not, I am the son of Princess Elia of Dorne. I am a member of House Martell. I have a home here. I can provide for my wife and the family she and I will create. I don’t need the Six Kingdoms or the Crown. Like my mother, I have Dorne...I always did.”

They remained in silence, neither one moving their purple hue gazes from each other. 

“My daughter is my greatest treasure, Aegon. I will allow you a certain level of freedom to address this with her. Me and her father, though unknowingly, have done her the gravest of disservice by titling her with bastardy, but I will not standby and allow you to compound it. Have my made myself clear, your Grace.”

Standing before her appeared a nervous young man in love, standing in front of his beloved’s mother; rather than a confident Prince of one of the largest realms on the continent. That is who she hoped to still see...the boy who loved her daughter fearlessly...her apprehension that Court life would have changed the boy she loved beyond recognition. 

“Yes, my Lady. As clear as was the water that flows into this pool.”

Nodding to acknowledge acceptance of his words, Ashara cupped his face as she laid her lips on his cheek. 

“Then I wish you the best of luck, Aegon...for she is different. Lia is no longer the young woman you left behind.”

*****

The gates of Winterfell open as Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen rides through with a small entourage of 4 men. Ned Stark is sure the four men were at the demand of his sister for he knows his nephew well enough to admit that the young man likes traveling quickly and with little trappings as associated with his station.

As Jae pulled sharply at the reins of his steed, he dismounted gracefully before the beast came to a complete stop. Ned shakes his head when he thinks of all the times he cautioned his already careful nephew of such acts. 

_“Take care Jae, for jumping off the horse will be what will send you to an early grave, son.”_

The slight smile that looked much like his own took over the younger man’s face. 

_“Yes, Uncle.”_

However, it seems the young man continues to do as most young men do...live dangerously.

“Lord Stark!” Jaehaerys shouted as he made his way towards Ned. 

“Your Grace.” Ned embraced his nephew as men were known to do. A solid form indeed, Ned though, please to see that his nephew is still training just as hard as he did when he lived with them a few years prior. 

“It’s good to see you, Uncle.”

“Aye. Same can be said of you, but I am a bit unsure as to the visit...not that you aren’t welcomed. We depart in a few days to Kings Landing, so I was to see you soon regardless. What brings you here in such a state of emergency that it could not wait a moon’s turn.”

“May we speak privately.” The younger man deep sigh drew a sigh from Ned, along with a nod. 

“Come. We can have a meal in my solar. My people will see to your men.”

The men walked in companionable silence with an occasional milord or your Grace from a servant in the halls. They enter Ned’s solar. He gesture for Jon to sit while he gathers a couple of cups and a decanter of ale. Taking a seat beside him and pouring out a drink for them both, Ned waits for his nephew to begin. 

“I received a letter from Sansa.”

“Sansa?”

“She sent two letters. One letter was addressed to me and the other to you. In my letter she asked that I deliver this to you. No ravens or riders...just me.”

Jaehaerys pulled a letter out of his leathers, passing it to Ned, Sansa’s script of the word _Father_ brought home to Ned how much he missed his daughter. Not one for such displays of intrigue he was worried by the content of the letter. 

“Do you know what this is about?” He asked as he held the note in his hand.

“No, I don’t. My letter doesn’t contain the content of yours. All she asked was that I get it to you and to tell you to read this missive in complete privacy.” The young man looked just as perplexed as Ned imagined he did. 

“Well now that you have done your duty...” he smiles at Jae, “will you stay and travel with us.”

A small laugh comes from around the cup the younger man was drinking from. “Aye. If you don’t mind.”

They sat enjoying their drinks, refilling as needed. A servant came in with a meal for Jae who picked around the tray. An unusual sight as Jae typically eats Northern fair with enthusiasm. 

“Is there a problem, nephew?”

The young man sat forward, his right hand capturing his fisted left hand, as he rest chin on them. A deep swallow raises Ned’s concern about Jaehaerys's mood. When the young man stood and faced him, Ned felt as though whatever Jae was to speak would spark a change...one Ned wasn’t sure he wanted.

“It is only right that I inform you that my brother Aegon has told my father that he wanted to step down as Crown Prince.” Ned couldn’t control the loss of breath that statement caused him. 

“We had heard. I am sure you and Lady Margaery will be happy. She is quite beautiful. I do feel like I should ask if there a particular reason why your brother is stepping down?

“The reasons or potential reasons are not mine to speak, but what I can say is that I have told my parents that I would not undertake the mantle of Crown Prince again. So regardless of Lady Margaery’s loveliness, she will not be mine to know in such regards.”

“What? Why?” The older man inquired; while it had been the talk of the realm, the confirmation of it shocked him and vibrated in the few spoken words. 

“I want to marry Sansa. I know another Stark woman cannot be the Queen of the Six Kingdom...not with a living Stark woman serving as Queen. Most houses...particularly the Tyrell’s won’t stand for it, so the next best thing to avoid that is to take myself out of consideration completely.”

“Jae, I am not sure how to respond. While I agree that another Stark cannot be Queen, especially in light of how the current one seated there gained her position, you were raised to be King. That would be your duty, Jae. To walk away would mean to walk away from your duty. You always said that was your greatest fear...to do as she did.”

The prince scoffed, “I did say that didn’t I.”

Ned nodded solemnly. He questioned if he should stop speaking, for doing so granted his beloved daughter her most favored wish...but their personal desires are weighted very little when compared to a realm of people.

“Is it my duty though? Even with all my brothers. It was Aegon’s...always Aegon’s role to be. 

“But we all thought him dead, and as your father’s next true-born son you were raised to rule.” Ned continued, his voice seasoned with reason.

A barked laugh burst through Jae’s lips. “His next true-born you say. Are you going to spare me my reality as well Uncle. I hadn’t foreseen that.”

“What do you mean? Did I say something false? Are you not your father’s next true-born son?”

“No. I am not...not really.”

A heavy silence filled the room as eyes much like his own affixed their gaze on his. 

“I will tell you what I already told my parent before I left Kings Landing. They made me before they truly married. Sure, they will say they married in a faith that only the North believes in, but the rest of the realm keeps to the Sevens...the part of the realm where my mother carried me and birthed me. By the time they married in that faith I had already lived through several moons. Color it if you must, but my legitimacy comes after the fact that my parents laid, conceived, and birthed me out of the marriage bed.” [1]

“Jae...”

“Let us not forget that it is by the grace of one of these gods that my brothers and I can retain this mummer’s farce of legitimacy considering that the Seven’s would not grant my parents that marriage if Queen Elia had been discovered alive then...not without her agreeing to an annulment and bastardizing her own children. I don’t care how Dornish she may be, she was a Princess that did her duty...she would not have willing taken her children’s status from them to give me and my parents legitimacy.”

The room was filled with too much anger, and it radiated from Jae and filled up every crevice of his chamber. An anger Ned always speculated on but never probed, for who was he to press that issue. 

“I am not meant to be the one to wear that crown. I do not deserve the crown nor do I want it. I do not deserve Sansa either, but of the two she is the one I am willing to fight for.”

Ned reclines back on his chair, as he rubs his hand across his lips, taking in all his nephew has said.

“If you step away, what comes next for you? If you truly want to marry my daughter, then how do you plan to care for her. What is your plan?”

“I want to create a military school for those who can’t afford to be wards of a noble house...low born, commoners, lesser sons and daughters, bastards. We send these people in as untrained soldiers to fight and caregivers to heal and they have little to no true skill...but yet they are the bulk of our armies.”

“Continue...” Intrigued by the idea, but unsure of how it would work in their world. 

“I want to train them and give them a purpose...and should the realm need them, then they would be prepared to have a fighting chance on the battlefield. I will seek second or third sons from noble families to serve as teachers and mentors...an alternative to taking the Black. I will ask for maesters and healers. It’s just another kind of apprenticeship.”

“How would you fund such a venture? Many nobles would be difficult about opening such a kind of wardship to those consider lesser by most.” Ned could feel the anger had subsided and passion had taken its place. 

“My father is supportive of the idea and is willing to fund my household just as he would for any of my other siblings. Also, as the skills learned will be in service to the realm, the Crown will fund part of it...just as they do with the orphanages and missions. I just need to find the place.”

Ned considered his Jae and his plans. “Have you ever spoken of this with Sansa?”

A small chuckle escaped the young man’s lips. “Aye. We have. It was her idea to open the doors to girls. She said maybe all might not want to pick up a sword, but they might be willing to pick up a needle. Both serve their purpose in battle do they not Uncle?”

A similar chuckle came from Ned. “Unfortunately, yes...both are needed. Smart girl.”

“She’s the smartest woman I know.” Jae’s whispered voice caught Ned ear. 

“Careful, son. You’re sounding a little bit too besotted over there. But I can’t disagree with your taste. I find my daughter to be extraordinary but I am aware of my father’s bias. Where have you considered establishing this venture?”

“Honestly...the North. You know me, Uncle. If I had the choice of anyplace I’d rather live, I would live in the North. I am...not as amenable as Aegon is with the South, nor as comfortable as Aemon, or as indifferent as Daeron. I think I am one dragon that is made for the icy cold of the North.”

“In that case, I know the perfect place for a dragon in the North...a place that would test the success of your plan.”

“Where?”

“Sea Dragon Point.” 

Both men stare at each other, when similar slow smiles pulled at their lips.

“Aye, See Dragon Point. So is this you agreeing to my initial question.”

“You will always be welcomed in the North, Jae.”

Ned couldn’t help but see his nephew bracing himself for rejection. 

“Get your plans underway. If Sansa is willing to wait for you, then I am willing to give her time. Come to me when your home is established...and then if you both still feel the same, then yes you may have my daughter’s hand.”

With the younger man’s smile returned, Ned offers him another drink.

*****

It is the night before she is to return to Kings Landing and Rhaenys finds herself doing what most lady’s would not do...and that was to visit the buried remains of the man she loved as a father.

As Rhaenys found the crypt that held the tomb of Ser Jaime Lannister. 

Rhaenys never felt conflicted about loving two men...the one she came from and the one who raised her. While as a woman grown, she loves that she has her father in her life, though a large part of her does not understand him. 

She most definitely doesn’t understand why he made the choices he had. He had tried to explain to her how he had been this prophecy driven young man, and this obsession made him lose contact with reality...with common sense and decency. 

Rhae feels like she has a better grasp on who he is...the man who moved past who he once was. She can see the trauma her father’s actions inflicted on himself. It doesn’t make her blind to his faults for he harmed many more...such as herself, but she also knows how suffering can change you, regardless if its self-inflicted, it does not stop the alteration. 

The truth remains that she is the daughter of King Rhaegar Targaryen, and there is a part of him that resides inside her and knowing him helps to make herself knowable to herself. Questions she’s always had about herself that only he could answer. 

It’s a double-edge sword to love Rhaegar Targaryen, but then hadn’t her mother always warned her of that. As his daughter, the sword edge is a bit more dull than sharp, unlike in her mother’s case where she walks a finely sharpened blade. 

Now loving Ser Jaime was simple. She loved him with a little girl’s wildness. He was her knight and sought to always make her believe so...even when they no longer resided in the Red Keep.

She also knows that she was free to love him and he her because the demands of both their stations had been suspended. She wasn’t the King of the Six Kingdoms’ daughter and he wasn’t a sworn knight of the Kingsguard. No here in Dorne, she was Rhaenys daughter of Princess Elia and he was Ser Jaime...her family’s friend and defender. 

Here in Dorne she was free to be a child, to embrace her Dornish roots, and to love a man whose bones rested interred...the man who adored her completely with her quietly willful ways. 

In Dorne, he could be a man free to live by his own moral code, a code that let him love her and siblings as his own children even if his father was a traitor to the father of said children...a code that let him love a woman so deeply and irrevocably even though she technically was bound to another who did not deserve her. 

Flawed and complex are the men who have shaped her, and yet she finds she cannot stop loving either. But now is not the time for her to think about the father she has still living. No, now is the time for Rhaenys to spend some time with the father she lost some time ago. 

Placing her hand on the plaque that has his name chiseled onto marble, Rhae lowers herself down to press her lips against the cold plate...wishing so much that it were his warm cheek. Tears begin to tease a slight burn.

“Hello Ser Jaime. I apologize for the delay since my last visit, but as you know I was heading for Dragonstone...heading back home, I guess. Though it won’t be my home for long as I will be moving up North to Winterfell shortly after the wedding.”

The silence is still, not even the wind is making its presence known on such a night. Rhaenys bites her lower lip to quell her lower lip from trembling. The quiet bringing home how this vibrant man was gone. Pushing forward she continues.

“I love him...Robb. He is a good man. He’s kind, and light-hearted though it is hard to see under this heavy weight of “Northern-ness” about him. I find when we are together, he laughs more...I make him laugh...not at me either, but with me.” Her heart always seems fuller when she speaks of Robb. She isn’t sure if the tears falling are for the love she’s found or the love she’s lost. 

“He seems to grasp my need for quiet and introspection. Finds my love of animals and reading books on history interesting even if he doesn’t completely understand them. He loves the idea that I can disarm him with a fair-considerable amount of effort. My opinions he seeks and genuinely weighs them...he sees me as someone who could be an equal, yet an enhancement to his life.”

“Can I tell you something I haven’t told anyone?” Rhaenys sniffs, the only sound to be heard in the chamber.

“I see him in very much the same way...someone who is equal but not the same...someone who enhances my life rather than being the purpose for living. I think I could have a relationship with him as you had with mother.”

“I appreciate that he is willing to take attention away from me and onto himself; seemingly ready to shine the light on me when I am ready. I value that he is willing to explore knowledge even if the topic isn’t one that he finds interest in. I treasure that he will fight with me and respect my skill with my weapon of choice as well as my mind. It is his opinion I seek. I find myself considering his words for I think they come from a genuine place; even if the ideas differ from my own.”

“Mother says you probably would have preferred I didn’t marry a Northerner, particularly a Stark, but you might’ve approved of Robb. I think you would have too, for there are similarities between you. There is so much I want to thank you for, but I guess in this regard I want to thank you for showing me what a good marriage could look like if both people were willing to put in the work to create such a union.”

“I wish you were here.” Rhaenys whispers in hopes that Jaime hear her.

Not ready to leave him just yet, she sits against the tomb wall, and rests her head on the plaque...and together they sat in silence. Rhaenys like to think they both were finding comfort in each other nearness. She remained there until the sun began to rise, letting in light from the colored window that adorned the small mausoleum.

Her muscles sore and cramped from falling asleep in an upright position on a stone floor, she rose, and once again said goodbye to one of the best men she knew, while on her way to make a life with one of the best men she knows.

*****

Holding her youngest son Mychal in her arms as he nursed at her milk-laden breast, Daenerys Baratheon found herself conclusively in a state of love that only a mother could feel for her child. No love for spouse, friend, or family comes close to the feelings she had for her children...her sons.

As his pursed lips pull at the milk, feeding himself, she takes her long finger and caresses the black downy hair on his head. In such a short time she can sense when he is at the point of being milk-drunk as he pulls away from her breast and his light bluish-purple eyes roll in the back of his head. 

Dany can’t help the small laugh that escapes her for it is amazing...all of it...the children, the feelings, everything feels so much more than it had felt before. 

As she lays her little one down, she begins to tie the ribbons on the front of her gown when she hears a quiet know at the door. Thinking it be her husband or mother she calls for the visitor to enter. 

“Aemon!” Surprised that her nephew has returned. She expected him in at least another sennight. Carefully rising from the bed to don her dressing gown, she checks one more time that her son is safe before walking into the strong arms of her dearest friend and family member. 

Looking over her, Aemon checks out her babe on the bed. 

“He is very good looking. A Baratheon through and through. Between you and my mother these Targaryen looks are fading.” He chuckled though the pain of her fist in his side. 

“No Elia in that sentiment.” Dany smirked. 

“No...let’s be truthful. My brother Aegon looks like the second-coming of the Great Rhaegar Targaryen and Visenya carries her silver hair and violet eyes just as well as most people with Valyrian blood. Hells...even Rhaenys has purple eyes. So, if this were a competition, then Queen Elia is winning.” 

He snarked at her, leaving Dany to pinching the side she just punched. 

“Ouch...why are you making me suffer for such truths.”

“I am not completely lost. The maester thinks that the boys eyes could be purple. It's too soon to tell for babes eyes can change color within their first year. Would you like to hold one?”

Aemon’s sudden discomfort seemed to warm Dany’s playful side. “Do I have a true choice in this matter?” Her second babe began to stir from the cradle he shared with his brother.

“No. Absolutely none.”

Resigned but not truly put out, Aemon sat where Daenerys gestured. She walked towards him with her babe in her arms, her whispered words easier to hear as she came closer to him. 

“Yes, my little dragon-stag this is your cousin Aemon. Feel free to ignore his contrariness. It’s become quite affectionate over time.” Placing the child in his arms and arranging his arm just so, while ignoring his unimpressed expression at her description of him. 

“Contrariness. Really?” The traditional Targaryen brow hike was in full form on his face. 

“Did I speak an untruth?” Dany smirked at him. His ability to be conflicting, opposing, argumentative, and divergent are fairly well known by anyone who truly knows him. 

“That is beside the point.”

Not wanting to debate with him she gave him a directive instead. 

“Stop complaining and start adoring my child.” Shaking her finger to get him started on falling in love with the little boy in his arms.

Aemon’s deep laugh rumbled forth causing her oldest son, Ormund, to open his eyes. She watched as Aemon’s gaze connected with Ormund’s and all protests ceased. 

“Wow Dany.” Ormund’s small fingers wrapped around one of Aemon’s long fingers...holding tightly. “He is strong.” 

Aemon’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “You look happy.”

“I am. Life for me is good. Any chance you have brought more happiness with you?” Daenerys bites her lower lip as she send Aemon and expectant look.”

Looking down at the babe as his own trademark smirk appears. “I have been granted permission from my father to pursue Margaery. Father has already discussed this approach with Lord Mace.”

“If I didn’t have two sleeping babes and if I wasn’t a dignified mother I would be jumping and shouting until I brought the guards running to my room. This is wonderful news.”

“Yes. It is something alright...” Aemon chuckled but said little. Dany thought of her friend and what she knows of how Margaery feels about Aemon. She felt the need to be clear with him.

“You know what this means, Aem. No games. This needs to be a serious courtship. She is a good woman...treat her accordingly.” Dany gently admonished. 

“I think my Lady would be bored without a small about of sport, my dear Aunt.”

“A little sport, Aem...not a tourney.”

The both laughed until Mychal made it clear he demanded some attention of his own.

*****

Lia had been seated with _her newly found sisters_ on a rock while her feet sat in the cool water of a smaller, private pool. The Stark sister have been cautious but kind towards her, as she has been towards them. The topic of their shared father occasionally touched. The young women have come to a shared understanding to learn about each other but doing so with the upmost discretion.

Once news had arrived of Aegon return, her mind went to one place...escaping the prospect of seeing his face.

As much as she loves this man, she refuses to sit here as though her heart has not shattered at the loss of him. So, she turns to Sansa and Arya and makes her apologies. The younger women seemed perplexed by her sudden departure. 

Lia decided to take a tactic from her namesake, and left just as Queen Elia left King Rhaegar when he discovered her whereabouts in Dorne. 

Not sure of what was to come she fled. Running to the kitchen she grabbed some bread, cheese, and dried meat...placing them in a large cloth. She found an empty pouch and filled it with water. A few servants in the room watched her with wide eyes, but no one stopped her.

Her feet took her to her room. Pushing the heavy door open, she spotted her summer cloak and grabbed it. In Dorne the days are sweltering hot, but the nights could be brutally cold. She proceeded to make her way to the sables, to secure her horse. 

Fixing her items to her saddle, she climbed her mount with a little help from the young stable hand and rode out the stable doors. In her haste she realized she had not told anyone that she had left, but she refused to turn back. In two days, she could make her way to Sunspear. She knew that Prince Oberyn had a soft heart towards her and he would shield her until she made arrangements to sail back to Starfall. 

Just when she thought she had ridden far enough to slowdown her beloved horse; she could hear the unmistakable sound of a mount being rode hard behind her. Turning her head, she saw him...his silver blond hair and determined face coming her way.

Nudging her horse to run faster, Lia prayed that she could outrun him but she knew the man well enough to know that her attempt was futile. She could not maintain this pace without bring harm to her mare. Lia would have to face him. There would be no other way. Hiding was not what they did with each other. Direct was their way. 

She could hear her name in the wind...his voice carrying despite the distance between them. “Lia! Lia!”

It was a foolish plan, to leave the way she did. Unlike her, Queen Elia planned for years for the potential of King Rhaegar’s return. She fled through passages he was unaware of. Lia was limited in her path, for the man who knew her best would know she’d head to Sunspear...she would find shelter with Prince Oberyn. 

Making the decision to stop, Lia gently commanded her mare to slow her gait down to a standstill. Lia will let Aegon say what he must. She will say her words...and her goodbyes. Leaving him; to return on her path to the capital. 

He barely brought his stallion to a standstill before he dismounted. Marching to stand beside her own mount. 

“I will not ask you why you left with no word. I have seen this from a Dornish woman before. All I will say is I am not my father, nor do I appreciate being treated as though I am.”

Lia would not argue the point for hadn’t she followed the same Dornish woman’s example. 

“I do not think you are your father, but you are a man who has brought me much pain and unhappiness when he left because he felt the need to follow his own path. I do not know what you will say or do. This last year has not inspired my confidence to wait and see how you will attend to me now that you are here.”

“Lia I have never forgotten you. I have written to you. I’ve shared the insanity that has been my life since returning to Kings Landing. I know I hurt you by leaving, but leaving was never about following a path...it was about learning of who I was...where and who I came from. These are questions both of us always had about ourselves.”

“A lesson I’ll never have the chance to learn for my father will never be someone real to me.” Lia whispered as she felt a small sliver of jealousy that he had the chance to know a father and she never could. It could never be for her.

“I know the death of your own father will never bring you that understanding...”

Unable to let him finish, she left a bark of laughter escape as she thought of her own _father_.

“Lia!” His voice held a hint on hurt. 

“My father is not dead. He is alive and well living in the North, as he has my whole entire life.” Hot tears wet her face as she told him this last and final secret. A coffin that will keep them apart forever. 

It took not more than a blink of time for him to make the connection. 

“Lord Stark.” He spoke in a breathless whisper that was laden in disbelief. 

“Yes. I will never know him. I can’t, not like you could know your father. Fathers aside you are to marry Lady Margaery. Learning that the marriage alliance was finalized undid something within me Aegon. I do not know why you are here with me right now. What do you want from me?” Lia swiped the tip of her tongue against her lower lip to help her focus her her anger. 

“Nothing was finalized. When I wrote you, I told you I was expected to marry her and why...the duty that was demanded from me. I told you _I loved you above all others_. Did you not read that part?” His loud voice, fierce gaze, and angered deportment made him seem larger than life...but Lia was never cowed by his ire. 

Her voice just as loud as his, she dismounted her horse and marched herself to stand before him, her chest heaving with righteous rage as he stands before her. “Yes, I read it. Have you forgotten what your next words were? _“I need to take the proper steps to do what was best for the realm. I cannot be that selfish. I cannot follow in my father’s footsteps, and destroy a kingdom for my own desires.”_ How was I supposed to gleam from this letter that your intent was to be anything other than _marrying her_?” 

Glaring at each other, Lia could feel the stirrings of wanting to climb this man until she captured his lips with her own. For a moment she wondered if he felt the same...the want, the need. 

“I am sorry if I had not left enough of my honor with you when I left, for that could be the only explanation for why you would think I would not inform you directly of such a commitment. How could you think so little of me? How did we misread each other so poorly?” There was no room for doubt. He was hurt and by the looks of it, he was not wrong to feel so. 

Bowing her head, Lia let the tears she tried to keep from him fall...large drops making darken spots in the sand. 

“I love you Elia Sand. I have loved you my entire life...first as a friend, but now I love you beyond that. I do not know myself fully without you. If you would have me, then I would be a grateful man.” Aegon pulled her into an embrace, resting her head against his shoulder as his arms held her tight. 

As much as she wanted to stay as they were, he was the son of a King. He was a Prince and there was no changing that. We was meant to be more than just the husband of a bastard girl of Dorne. Even though she was joyful that in this moment he was choosing her, the end he proposed was not meant to be.

“You are the son of the King. You have a duty.” Pulling her head away from his shoulder she gazed into the eyes she loved; cataloging every fleck of color. “I cannot realistically be a part of that world, Aeg.”

He steps away from her towards his horse, and pulls a scroll out of the saddlebag. “Before I show you this, I want to make it clear that what information this scroll hold means little to me. I love you as you are and I am happy to take you as you are.” 

Her eyes rest on the rolled parchment that he places in her hand. Noticing the seal being from Prince Doran, Lia carefully cracked the waxed sigil. As she began to unfurl the letter, Aegon cupped her face bringing her gaze back to his. “Remember I want you as you are. Should you desire it, we will burn this and I will tell my uncle to destroy any evidence to the contrary. My only reason for securing it would be to grant you easier access to navigating the kingdom North of Dorne...especially for my sisters on their wedding days.”

“Why would you think I need anything to serve as a companion to your sisters on such days?” Lia keeping the truth that she had secure her absence from these events. 

“Because I know you Lia...better than you think.” Aegon gentle smile pulled at the stirrings in her heart. 

Lia nods in understanding, but her heart was pounding so violently against her breast that she found it hard to breath. Looking down to read Prince Doran’s hand, she saw the words that stole whatever breath she had. 

_Elia Sand...legitimized daughter of Ashara Dayne...hereby named Elia Dayne of Starfall._

“Aegon...” Her eyes were unseeing. She couldn’t believe it. All her life the ability to be legitimized was always at her fingertips. 

Queen Elia offered her mother the option years past. Prince Oberyn had been known to remind both she and her mother that the offer was available should she ever want to use it. Even Prince Doran mentioned it in a private conversation, at Rhaenys nameday celebration, almost five years ago.

It’s not that she never wanted it, she just wanted someone to love her enough to demand it for her...rather than her securing it herself. It’s odd how the heart can be with things it desires. Aegon’s soft voice pulls her out of her own thoughts. 

“You are right I am the son of a King and I do have a duty. In fact, I have many duties...and ruling a nation would be one of them. I want to marry you, and I want a woman like you to stand beside me if and when I undertake the task of reigning.”

Lowering his head to rest it against hers, he takes a deep breath before continuing. “If I need to step down as Crown Prince in order to do so then that is a choice I will gladly make. If you want to live in Kings Landing I will be by your side, but if you wish to stay in Dorne then I will do that too. I have spoken to my Uncle Doran, and he has a Keep in need of a Prince. Either way, Lia, I want you.”

At a loss to find words that answer his plea, Lia finds the only words she can conjure remind him of his duty...the duty that would take him away from her.

“You also have the duty to make meaningful marital alliances. Even with this legitimacy. I am not a daughter of a Great House. I am of little consequence.” Lia’s voice stays steady though she doesn’t feel as firm in her conviction.

“Lia we are both children of duty and in the end it didn’t seem to mean much. Duty or not, nothing is guaranteed, not even alliances. The Targaryen grandfather held my family hostage while my father broke faith with my mother for reasons that make little sense now. The Dornish turned away from the Targaryens in order to secure the safety of my mother, my sister, and I. The North wants nothing to do with the Crown. Hells, if the Red Keep were on fire, the North would let it burn...probably with Queen Lyanna in it. Being cousins with the Baratheons meant nothing to my father and it hadn’t saved the Baratheon’s. Tywin Lannister, the once Hand of the King whose son was in the Kingsguard, and he sent his men to kill me and my family. Alliances...they are a vicious cycle. Just different cogs in a large wheel. Some gears move together and some counter, but regardless the wheel will spin without much effort from us.” 

Aegon's fingers rested on her neck, bringing her closer to him. 

“I’m not throwing duty to the wind, Lia, but rather I’m defining what it should look like in this new age.” Raising her face towards his, his eyes unabashedly gazing into her hers, the sincerity of his words true to form. 

"If alliances means that much too you. Consider that you yourself have the backing of _The Prince of Dorne_. The warmth of his breath; as a whisper of a plead and a promise on the wind.

“Will you stand with me?” 

Terrified of taking the leap; of being with this man who was willing to walk away from being a King just to be hers. If he found her worth taking the chance for, then it was only right that she met him halfway. 

She nodded in compliance. He pulled her body closer; flushed to his own.

Unable to tear herself away, Lia lifted her face to meet Aegon’s lip, and once again they came together as though they had never been apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] My inspiration for potentially granting Lia her hearts wish (because nothing is certain yet...King Rhaegar has not spoken), are the illegitimate daughters of royalty or noblemen who married kings. 
> 
> These three women are: Sybilla (c 1090-1122), Queen of Scotland and daughter of Henry I; Joan of England (c 1190-1236), daughter of King John and wife to Llywelyn the Great, Prince of North Wales; and Joan Beaufort (1379-1440), daughter of John of Gaunt and Catherine Swynford.
> 
> While I recognize the Six/Seven kingdoms never had an legitimized queen before; there is always a first time...and if that first time should come, it will be Lia. :P
> 
> *****
> 
> A thank you to Frost_Kings 85 for suggesting Sea Dragon Point in the comment section of _The Gods and Their Literary Works_.
> 
> I went there. Aegon and Jaehaerys have made their choices. Bracing myself for your reactions. What are your thoughts? 
> 
> (Keep in mind the story is not over. There is way more to come...lol.)


	6. Interlude II: The Lone Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna and Eddard speak about the past, setting a tone for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I just having some creative release by writing this story.
> 
> Keep comments constructive and copacetic. 
> 
> This is Lyanna's POV. I know she isn't loved my many, but I have a soft spot for "my Lyanna". I can't speak to any of those other Lyanna-heifers and how they are written...lol. Please try to read her POV with an open mind.
> 
> Thank you!!!  
> '

Today was the day. While a true man of the North, even Lord Eddard Stark knew he couldn’t ignore her invitations any longer. It had been a fortnight since his arrival, and he has been dutiful to accept and attend every invitation sent on behalf of her husband, but he always found a commitment that had him sending his regrets to her request. 

In the decades that she has living in Kings Landing, Queen Lyanna Targaryen can only recall one time she had a private audience with her brother. It was shortly after Rhaegar and her coronation. 

As the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell, it was is his duty to come North to accept his punishment as a known traitor to the crown. A tragic mistake, Lyanna thought. She knew her brother’s honor would not let him hide and sacrifice his new family and their...his people, so he came South.

Like the Starks before him, he came and Lyanna begged Rhaegar to spare her brother the end his most loyal Southern bannermen had hoped for. 

_“Rhaegar, he is all I have left of my family...of my House. He might despise me for the rest of his life...or mine...but he is within his rights to have his feelings. We might have been wrong to leave the way we did, but your father...your family...your House...they started this.”_

_Lyanna can remember Rhaegar’s vacant look. An expression that seemed to follow him since he learned of Elia and the children’s death. Drawing his face to look at hers, she proceeded to fight for her brother’s life because in all fairness he was in this predicament because of her._

_“My father and his heir were not enough. Your father wanted to end House Stark, and even though we love each other we can’t allow this consequence to pass without context. Do not make him take the Black. Do not offer him death. Do not strip my good and decent brother of his House or his life. Please Rhaegar...”_

_Her tears were hot and heavy on her face...plentiful too, if she remembered correctly._

_“I am not blind to the circumstance Lyanna, but the realm needs to see what happens when one stands against their king. How do I ignore that? This is our way, Lya.” Rhaegar’s voice was firm, but not cruel...but in that moment Lyanna could not tell the difference._

_“And a Prince and a King have a duty to their people. You and I...we should have never left the way we did, and regardless of my decision to go with you; you can’t ignore that you broke faith with your own oath to my House.”_

_The vacant expression morphed into quiet fury._

_“You dare...you dare call my oath into question. What of your own?”_

_“I am an oathbreaker. I said I would marry Robert, but I broke my oath to him...while you broke yours to Elia you also broke it toward my House and your father compounded it. The Royal House broke the oaths between the Crown and a Great House. My Father...my brothers were within their rights to call you out. I might not like it, but it was their right.”_

_"You bring my marriage to Elia into this--"_

_“Your father broke faith most grievously. What was Ned to do?”_

_“Lya...I am not unfeeling to your brother’s plight...”_

_“But you still will not bend.”_

_His silence told her what she refused to accept._

_“You say that the realm needs to see what happened to those who go against their King, but if you truly are seeing this situation for what it truthfully was then you can acknowledge your father broke faith, and offer my brother a chance to swear fealty to a King who would honor the mutual pledge.”_

_Rhaegar had just stared at her. His eyes a combination of despondency, anger, with bouts of indifference. How far they had fallen? She remembered when he gazed at her with wonder, amusement, and healthy dose of desire. Those days died the day they returned to the Keep._

_He walked away, leaving her to crumble in hopelessness at the thought that she sentenced another brother to death. Thoughtless girl...what a thoughtless girl she was._

_It wasn’t until the Lords began to arrive, that Rhaegar agreed to spare her brother, but he made his punishment clear by warding his sons South of the Neck. It was with expressionless eyes that her brother knelt and swore fealty to her husband, the king._

After the ceremony, she sent an invitation to her brother but the man who attended her was not the brother she knew. 

Before her stood a man who was angry, in all its fluctuating shades. He refused to look at her. His Stark gray eyes staring ahead, hands folded behind his back. Ned kept his expression indifferent, but she knew her brother well enough to see his disgust and hatred. 

The man before her would not be moved. They couldn’t grieve the loss of their family together because he blamed her for the loss of them. It was a culpability she was well aware of...every morning when she opened her eyes and looked at her son she was reminded, and every night her eyes refused to shut without recaps of her father and brother's deaths playing on a continuous loop behind her lids.

With nothing left to say, and neither party willing to speak, Lyanna excused her brother as etiquette demanded of a Queen. After that, he kept himself to the North unless social customs required him to come South, and Lyanna stayed away from her homeland. 

The beloved brother and sister who they once were, died sometime between her decision to run away with Rhaegar and Ned's bending of the knee. 

Lyanna took one more look at the balcony where she had selected to have their midday meal. It was one of the few places that allowed her a view of the Godswoods. It not nearly as grand as the one she grew up with, but she made it a point to have this one well-tended. 

It has grown well over the years, but it still isn’t quite right. At times she wonders if it shines less brightly because the Gods are still unhappy with her...for all actions have consequences, do they not?

She thought Ned would appreciate the view. Lya sighed hard wondering what did she truly want to have happen. What did she want from Ned? What does Ned want from her? Is this a futile effort?

A knock pulled her out of her deliberations. Lya turned to look at the door. She ran a trembling hand over her dress, taking a deep breath before she called out for the guard to enter. 

When the door opened she was glad to see Ser Arthur enter the chamber. While she knows the man never approved of Rhaegar’s decision to pursue her, and loathed all that resulted in their decision to defy societal norms, they found a kinship of sorts. Even pariahs need a community, do they not.

“Your Grace. Lord Eddard Stark has arrived.” The distinguished Dornishman announced. 

With a gentle smile, Lya thanked him for his introduction. A nod and a bow saw Ser Arthur once gain behind the ornate wooden door. 

“Welcome Ned.” By the flash of anger in his eyes, it seems the familiarity would not be welcomed, but Lyanna would not be deterred. They needed to speak...the marriage between his son and her stepdaughter demanded it. 

“Queen Lyanna”

“Please Ned, let us dispense with the formalities. Have a seat. I had the kitchen prepare some of your favorites...well the favorites I remembered you liking when...” Not wanting to highlight the loss they never discussed she chose her next words carefully.

“...you were a younger man.” Lyanna tried for a natural smile, one she has learned to perfect with her life at Court, but it felt more...false...than usual. 

Ned looked over the spread on the table, then he returned his gaze to her, his expression once again empty...remote.

His rumbling sigh, deflates her confidence just a bit, but she will not be deterred. He could have his anger for the moment, but they needed to talk. 

This wound between them was twisted and toxic...with Rhaegar sending his daughter North, she needed some assurances that their baggage would not spill onto her. For her husband would not tolerate that...his children with Elia, she has learned, are a trigger for his ire...if they are not dealt with a fair amount of impartiality. 

Lyanna knew that quelling such concerns about Rhaenys going North was just as important to Lya for maintaining a peaceful accord with Elia...and in turn with Rhaegar. 

Once again the silence returned, but this time Lya refused to stay silent...even if small talk was needed for a bit.

“Is there anything you would like to try first? The cook assured me they had tried to narrow down the ingredients just so...I hope the dishes do your memory justice.”

Ned continued to look at her, though now he looked slightly pained.

Another deep breath once again. 

Lyanna just took a moment to look at her brother...to truly look at him. He looked a lot like their father. She could see her sons in him...particularly Jae. Ned was always Northern, but this man grew into his Northern-ness. He was a man who had little desire to play nice, and appreciated a direct approach...respected it frankly.

Remembering who she was addressing...titles and courtesies aside. Lya took a deep breath of her own before opening a book they had sealed long ago.

“Will an apology be a start?”

The permanent crease on his brow hiked up in mild surprise. 

“Would you mean it?”

“Of course, I would. Ned, they were my family too. Rickard was my father and Brandon was my brother.”

“They were your family before you decided to leave us with a broken oath and yet that information didn’t curb your impulse to flee with the King when he was a Prince, now did it.” The sharpness of his tone cut her...and she bled.

“I didn’t want to marry Robert. It was more than his having a bastard. He had a roving eye...my life would have been full of betrayals from him. Bastards and more bastards and as a wife there would be nothing I could do but accept it. None of you would listen to me. You just kept telling me that I was being difficult and that in time I would settle into my place with him...into my role as a Lady of Storm’s End. I felt trapped, Ned.”

“And you answer to freeing yourself was to leave your family and run away with a married man. You thought that by being with Rhaegar that you found a station in life that could bring you happiness and freedom. The woman of a married man with a wife and children still living. Life as a royal mistress. That sounded like a better opportunity.” 

The disgust was present, she could hear it, but his face was cold...much like the most severe of Winters.

“It was more than that. I...we thought that I might have been...how do I explain this without sounding mad.”

“Don’t think about the madness. Just get to the point.” He demanded.

Stark gray met Stark gray and with the fortitude that pushed her to explain why she left, Lya told Ned about communicating with Rhaegar thought letters, their conversations on duty, honor...and love. She then told him of the prophecies that once led her and her husband into acts that nearly destroyed a nation.

Ned’s eyes widened with each word she spoke, his anger returned to full mast, and his disappointment a sharp blade that flayed the flesh on her wounded heart. 

“What you are saying is you knew that you should have discouraged Rhaegar attention, but when he told you of this _prophecy you thought that this was the Gods way of telling you that you were meant to be his...wife...the wife who would birth him his Visenya.”_

“Sounds like madness does it not.” Lya bit her lip. She felt contrite. 

“It doesn’t sound like it Lya. It is.” 

Ned reclined back on his chair, hand to forehead, his eyes rounded with shock and resentment. 

Clearly we were wrong. I never thought...” She began. 

“What! What didn’t you think of...that you might be wrong? That we would not search for you...especially when we discovered you were with Rhaegar. Clearly you thought little of anyone or anything but yourself. To leave with no notice...no word. They could possibly be alive if you had left a missive. Why didn’t you?” 

Lyanna couldn’t suppress the stinging of tears that banked in her eyes. Ned’s raised voice caught the attention of the Kingsguard. Lyanna raised her hand to bid Arthur a silent directive to leave her and her brother alone once again. 

“I was afraid it would be found too soon, and that someone would have stopped us.” 

All her flawed plans seem to pelt against Ned until all that remained was an agonize gaze that reflected her own. 

Her normally placid brother's voice broke as he roared at her. 

“They went _looking_ for you. They feared you were being hurt... _raped_. Our precious sister. The Winter Rose of our heart. You were what tied us together, Lyanna... _YOU! WE WERE IN SEARCH TO SAVE YOU AND YOU WERE FINE...YOU WERE SAFE...YOU WERE HAPPY...AND WE WERE DYING FOR IT._ ” 

Ned rose and turned away from her, but she sat stock still, her own gaze looking forward; seeing nothing as the tears blurred her own vision. She had nothing to counter. What could she say? She had left and while she was gone she was fine, and safe, and happy...and in defense of her they had died for it. 

“In the end it still worked out for you.” His low burr brought the home she hadn’t set foot in decades to this chamber. 

“You married the man you wanted. To hell with what happened to his wife and children which allowed it to be so.” 

“That’s not true...” her voice was broken and weak for she had no more confidence left. She was stripped and Lyanna had nothing to protect herself with. There were no words that could excuse or being peace to what she had done. 

“You got your Prince, who became a King, and in turn you became a Queen. A life more charmed than Robert could have provided, I am sure.” 

“Ned, stop...” 

“You might not have liked him, Lyanna, but he was my brother and he...” Ned’s voice broke, a wet breath stumbled from her typically stoic brother. 

“...loved you, Lyanna...maybe not who you were, but the hope of what you could have been. That hope is what he fought for...he fought for you and died. But you have a king, so his loss must be acceptable to you. After all you hadn’t wanted him anyways.” 

Lyanna closed her eyes, memories of a young man filled with the arrogance of youth...much like her dear Aemon, gifting her a necklace the color of winter roses...a keepsake for her to take South when they wedded. 

“Just after we discovered you were gone and father was to leave for Kings Landing, I had asked to speak with him...” 

The large man refused to turn around, but his body was quaking and she thought that he wasn’t strong enough to tap down the feelings flushing through his system. She knew she was not, as she quietly trembled in her seat. 

Ned just shook his head, but would not speak. 

“What did you want to speak to him about?” her broken voice asked, for it would serve her right for knowing her brother left words unspoken between him and their sire. Another cut to add to her heart. 

“I was to ask him...I wanted to marry Ashara Dayne. I wanted to ask for her hand. I wanted his blessing for it.” 

“Oh Ned...the tourney.” 

“I loved her, Lyanna. I loved her and I lost her because I had a duty.” 

Lyanna turned her head, unable to see the view of the Godswood for her eyes saw nothing beyond the wall of sorrow, regret and grief. 

“I am sorry you had to lose her Ned. I am sorry for all you've lost as a result of my choices. I know my regret does nothing to assuage your anger or your own griefs, but please know in the deepest parts of your heart that my remorse comes from the inmost place of my soul.” 

They remained in a strained quietness, as though neither wanted to disturb the mood, which would require one to speak to another. Lyanna was frightful to utter another word. She did not think she could bare it. Over twenty years of a calloused shell reduced to a flimsy layer of dust after one conversation with her brother. 

“I guess there is little left to say. Whether I want it so or not, much to my dismay, my life will always be bound to you in some way. My Robb loves Rhaegar’s daughter and your son loves my Sansa. Civility is all that can stand between us...just as it always been since...” 

“Is that all we can have?” 

“What are you expecting? That I come and help alleviate some of your self-inflicted burdens, Lyanna.” 

“No, but perhaps there could be some genuine cordiality between us.” 

"I’d rather not. I deal with Rhaegar because he is my king, and we have an understanding...we keep it formal and ask for nothing more. We will take that regard towards each other to our graves. What you want I cannot and do not want to give you.” 

“You are sure there is nothing I can...” Mustering the last of her reserves, her bravery almost long gone before she could finish her thought, Ned interrupted her. 

“I am satisfied with how things are between us Lyanna. If you are looking for _genuine cordiality_ then mayhap you should search for it elsewhere. Perhaps you might consider Queen Elia for a start.” 

The arrow hit her hard, but Ned knew where her weakness rested. Taking a deep cleansing breath, she rose, squaring her shoulders, back straight, she finally met her brother’s gaze once again. 

With a tremulous smile, she addressed him just as formally as he seemed to want to address her. 

“Very well, Lord Stark. I apologize for abusing your time. The Crown thank you for your continued support as one of our most faithful Lords.” 

As though they had never grown up in the same keep, run through the same Godswoods, or stole kidney pies from the same kitchen...the Stark siblings were truly gone. 

“I serve at the pleasure of your Grace.” Ned's voice returned to his controlled formality. 

With a nod, Lyanna excused her brother...always her brother, even if he wanted nothing to do with her anymore. 

Lyanna watched as Ned left the room. Arthur’s gaze caught hers, compelling Lyanna to send him a small smile of reassurance. A feeling that didn’t ring true...not at all. 

As the sound of the door clicking shut resonated through the room, Lyanna collapsed onto the chair she had sat on before. Once again her gaze was pulled towards the Godwoods...like her Northern roots, near but never welcomed, not as she once was before. 

Lyanna wept. The wretched cries bled into breathless sobs...until trembled sniffs were all that were left. She wasn’t sure how long she had sat there weeping once again for all the people she hurt...all because she had a young woman’s body and little sense. 

Lost in her past, as she tried to rewrite it in her head by warping memories so that all had a better fate than they did now, Lya didn’t hear the door opening. It wasn’t until she felt a gentle calloused hand on her own. A touch she was familiar with...a touch she had felt for almost a quarter century. 

Turning her face towards her husband, she could only imagine what she looked like. Shattered, she thought. She felt shattered beyond all recognition. He turned his hand over on the table. Palm open...as was his way with her...hand always extended to say _“I’m here Lyanna...come with me.”_. She stared at his hand, but did not move. 

Ever persistent her Rhaegar was, for his hand did not sway, his offer still standing. 

Her gaze rose to meet his. It was the compassion in his violet eyes that undid her. 

“Oh, Lya.” His soft whisper called forth a new reservoir of tears. One hand still extended, his other cupped the side of her head. She knew he could see how her tears and mucus made salty tracks on her face, but he didn’t seem disgusted by her. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t when she was sickened with herself. 

Lya could barely see him past her silent cries. 

“Come to me, my Winter Queen.” His voice rough and textured as he spoke to her...beseeching her to come to him. 

Unable to stay away, and needing his comfort, Lyanna placed her hand in his. She allowed her husband to tug her onto his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Lyanna pushed her head into his shoulder...his hair combining with hers; with his arms wrapped tightly around her, Lyanna let herself go knowing that if no one accepted her sincerity of her regret, Rhaegar would always understand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...what did you think? 
> 
> I'll post another chapter this weekend. My goal is to do a bunch of writing this weekend it hopes that I can update faster. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support...you have been great.


	7. Quatervois: (n) a crossroads; a critical decision or a turning point in one's life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned learns a hard truth before leaving Winterfell. 
> 
> As everyone begins to descend on Kings Landing and the Red Keep. Robb and Rhaenys reunite. Dany understands her mother a bit better. Ashara avoids Ned. Sansa learns that things have changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing related to this story. This is all in good fun.

Holding the letter in his hand, and reading it over several time does nothing to ease the varying levels of astonishment that coursed through his body. 

He never thought that a letter that began with the words, _“My Dearest Father”,_ would leave him utterly distraught...the ground below his feet gone and his body in an unstoppable freefall. To garner such a reaction was an almost impossible feat for a man who has lived a life such as his. 

Ned’s eyes traveled over the paper in his hand.

_My Dearest Father,_

_It has been about a fortnight since I had written to you about our coming to Dorne, specifically our arrival to Starfall._

_My first impression of the Dayne home, still remains, it is attractive with its high arches and open walkways. The plants and flowers that adorn the walking paths always seem to catch my attention, causing me to pause on my walks to take a closer look at the living beauty growing throughout the open garden that is their family home._

_Such a contrasting difference from the hallways of Winterfell which are meant to insulate warmth in preparation for the cold bite the North air generally holds._

_While I love the beauty my own home holds, I can welcome the loveliness this oasis offers those who reside in a land of constant heat, sand, and stone. I guess one could say the same of Winterfell, except they would describe our home as an oasis in a land of constant cold, snow, and stone._

_I want to assure you that Arya and I are being treated very well here, and we are happy that we have come with Princess Rhaenys on this journey to her homeland. But while I feel much joy, I fear what I will say next might make you feel differently...that perhaps we should never have left Winterfell at all._

_In the time since I last wrote, Lady Ashara’s daughter has returned from visiting her aunt Lady Allyria Dondarrion in Blackhaven. Her name is Elia, though she prefers to be called Lia, and she is in a word...lovely. I find she and I share a love of sewing, old songs, and writing. We both enjoy long walks in the gardens, and we find our hands going for the last lemon bar at every meal._

_Arya has spent some time with her as well. They both ride like the Stranger is at their heels, and find a healthy competition in the sparring yard; while Arya has her Needle...Lia is a fair match at making Arya lose her sword using a sai. It is a weapon Prince Oberyn brought her from Yi Ti...the best way I can describe it is a three-prong sword with the middle blade longer than the other ones on its sides. Arya and Lia have other...similarities as well._

_Lia has been very welcoming to us...considering._

_I guess another way to describe her would be to say that she is what I imagine the child of a northern wolf, who fell in love with a star, would look like. A wolf in almost every way with a hint of the brilliance one can see when they stare at the brightest star in the night sky._

_I do not know if she will go to the wedding. I know it is Rhaenys’s hope, but I am not in the position to confirm. Her mother though...in that case, I do believe you might have the opportunity to see and old friend._

_It pains me to write this, to tell you in such a fashion, but I see no other way. It is with all the love in my heart that you understand that Arya and I are not cross with you...or cross about her._

_Your loving daughter,_

_Sansa Stark_

Ned lowered the letter onto his desk.

_He and Ashara have a daughter._

A child. She was with child and she never told him. 

_Not a child, no, not anymore. A woman grown._

Ned tried to find understanding and wisdom in Ashara’s decision to keep silent on the existence of their child. He made the effort to try and consider all that was occurring at the time to explain her choice to not tell him. Burst of anger towards Lyanna resurfaced, the razor-sharp teeth of it drawing blood as it nipped at his soul breaking free of the prison where he keeps such feelings for his sister imprisoned. 

There was little doubt in his mind that Ashara kept silent because of the events that forced him to flee and fight for his life, his family, his people, and his home.

Lyanna...will all his life choices revolve around his once loved sister. Hate would not be a word to describe how he feels towards her. Hatred would require a certain degree of tempered love. No what he feels for Lyanna is disgust and shame, and when his mind forgets her...indifference.

He is assumed to love her, he supposes, but he feels not love, not hate...just sustainable detachment. He does not wish her harm; he just wishes her away, and now he discovers a child that he is pretty sure was kept hidden because he chose to honor a marriage alliance that their dead brother could not keep due to Lyanna’s choices. 

What does he do with this information? 

Clearly Sansa is aware of this reality, as is Arya. Ned is not surprised that she knows for she can ferret out any secret better than any well-paid spy. He must tell Robb...all his children should know...at the minimum. 

_Elia._ Her name is Elia. Another name he can’t seem to escape from...Elia the Queen who he bares much shame at how his family contributed to her humiliation and anguish, and Elia _his daughter_ who lived her life as a bastard because he had not claimed her or her mother. 

It matters little to him that Ashara kept it secret. Even through his shock and anger he can see the reasons why. 

As Ned considers how his children will react, he sees very little resistance to the news as the girl’s conception was before his marriage to their mother. He wonders if there is a reason the Gods took his wife when they did. She may have been a good wife and mother, but she had a tendency to harshly judge others while packaging it in piety.

Catelyn might have understood that he laid with Ashara before their marriage, but she would not have liked the child nor accepted it...not truly. 

The true concern Ned had was for the girl...woman in question. Would his daughter even want him to recognize her? She has made a life for herself at almost three and twenty. Why would his interference be seen as a good thing? What is the proper etiquette in this regard? Does he ask her?

Would Ashara want it?

Ned realizes the only person to give him any answers is the keeper of the secret. Pulling a piece of parchment from his desk, he carefully dips his quill into the pot of ink. Sighing deeply, he begins writing a letter that has be long overdue.

As the tip of the quill meets the paper, he begins.

_Dear Lady Ashara Dayne,_

No, he thought.

_Dear ~~Lady~~ Ashara ~~Dayne~~ ,_

Feeling better about the beginning, he followed his intuition and let the words flow from heart to paper until he said all he needed to say. 

Knowing that sending this letter by raven ran the risk of discovery, he could not foresee another way. Learning from Jon that they were in Starfall but would soon be on their way to the Water Gardens. Ned walked into the rookery, and tied the scroll to the raven himself. He took his chance and sent the note South on a prayer that it would make it there.

*****

After all the niceties were exchanged and greeting that stemmed from etiquette and propriety, Rhaenys was finally alone with her beloved, Robb Stark.

As soon as Visenya made her departure, a knowing wink sent to the couple that remained in the chamber, Rhaenys lips collided with Robb’s as his large hands found purchase in the length of her dark hair. 

Between passionate kisses short spurts of speech made their way through.

“My love I’ve missed you.”

“Not as much as I have missed you.”

More murmurings spilled forth in between slow long caresses of Robb’s lips as they trail down her neck, while her hands began to tug at his own curls. Pulling away from her, he gazes at her with such wonder, and she finds her face heat under his stare.

“I can’t believe that in a little more than a moon’s time you will be mine, Rhaenys Targaryen.”

A shaky breath escaped her; wrapping her arms around Robb and resting her head against his, she whispers her heartfelt joy.

“It feels like forever away. Mother says while much is done, there is still much left to do. I am so happy that you are here. It’s been quite the adventure since I left this place.”

“I imagine it has. Anything in particular that stands out that you wish you share.”

“Where does one begin? Your sisters have been a delight. Arya is a spitfire. I think she might have a bit of the Dornish in her.” Rhaenys’s blushed at the giggle that came from her. Oh, how she finds her typically solemn self besotted by the man. 

Robb sat beside her on a settee, his arm around her as his fingers played with a curl, a warm smile on his lips. Rhaenys couldn’t help but press her lips to him once more. 

“I imagine she has learned plenty of new tricks. Is this your way of warning me? Has she learned of your skills?”

“I apologize in advance for the soreness in your back, as your sister has become well adept at making men fall. Also, with that being said, your sister has spent a fair amount of time on her back herself...courtesy of me and my staff.”

This time it was Robb’s gruff laugh that rang through the room; warming her heart. 

“I hadn’t realized how skilled Sansa was in archery. It shouldn’t have come as such a surprise considering her embroidery work is absolutely breathtaking. A skill hand she has. She is also very thoughtful and kind under that cool exterior.”

“That sounds like my sisters. Seems as though you spent enough time with them to make a fair assessment of their persons.”

“I think so. I like them and I think they genuinely like me.”

“I have no doubt that they do. Sansa’s letters have been very warm towards you. She approves of my choice in bride's.”

A comfortable silence stood between them as Robb continued to play with her hair. Rhaenys reach for his unoccupied hand and held it in her own. 

“Ahem...” Robb’s clearing of his throat pulled her attention back to his. “...and what of my other sister?”

Rhaenys’s froze. He knew of Lia and she had not spoken of it. Clearly he suspect that she knows and she does...but it was not a secret she had kept since the inception of their relationship. Though in true it was a secret she had planned to take to her grave. 

“I...”

“I am not cross with you love, but I have been made aware of some truths that were once unknown to me before.”

“I am not sure what you want me to say.”

“Perhaps there is nothing you could say. I guess I could have been more forthright in telling you that I have recently learned about Lia Sand, but I thought maybe this would have seemed less...provocative.”

“Did Sansa tell you?”

“Hmmm...no. I learned from my father, though he learned of Lia’s existence through Sansa.”

“I guess it’s not really a secret most daughters could keep from a father.” Rhaenys thinks about the dragon egg in her possession. “I am not well-versed in such relationships as I don’t have the most tried and true rapport with mine. While I love my father, I know I am capable of keeping such secrets.”

“Yes, I can understand where there could be ease in keeping things from your father. Trust is a fragile thing.”

Wondering about his words and hoping she hasn’t lost Robb’s trust; she probes. 

“Does this mean you think you cannot trust me?”

“Rhae, I did not bring this up to highlight a fault in your character. This was not your secret to tell. To divulge it to the wrong individual could cause catastrophic harm. If anything, you have incurred more trust for your ability to protect her truth as diligently as you have.”

“If you hadn’t approached me, I would have kept her secret forever. She is like my sister Robb, and finding out about your father was a shock. I never expected...”

“Wait!" Robb pulled away. "You sound like you just discovered who her father was?”

Thrown by his reaction, Rhaenys explained how she came to learn about the connection between his father and her best friend. 

“That’s because I just did. She only told me because she needed me to understand why she would not come for the wedding.”

“She didn’t come. I thought she was...Sansa mentioned in her last letter that you all were to arrive before us.”

“No, she is here. Aegon came and...persuaded her.”

“How did he do that?”

“Let’s just say he made it so that she would be comfortable enough to come...knowing how much I would want her here and knowing how much she would want to be here.”

“Well I should make it a point to thank your brother.”

They share a soft smile. Robb pulls her in for another warm embrace. Finding herself lost in his blue eyes she wonders about his father.

“So, your father knows then. How has he taken the news?” Rhaenys probes.

“My father is a fairly private man; he holds all manners of feelings and emotions close to his chest. It is hard to know how he feels about most things.” Robb’s face took on a very stoic countenance. A look she finds reminiscent of said father, even if the coloring is all wrong. Robb while Tully in looks, in many ways is like Eddard Stark. 

“I think he is surprised. He spoke to me after he received the news...about the context beyond the death of my Uncle Brandon. He shared his own story. It is my understanding that he loved Lia mother greatly, so the sense I got was that this news while a shock wasn’t...unwelcome.”

“Does he plan to approach Lady Ashara or Lia?”

“I know he has written to Lady Ashara but she has not yet replied. He not said as much, but I am sure he will?”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because it would be the honorable thing to do, and my father is honorable to a fault.”

Concerned for her friend and the woman who has been like an aunt to her, Rhaenys gets lost in her thoughts. 

“Do not worry too much on it my love. While my father might have a challenging conversation with Lady Ashara, rest assure that he will treat Lia with the greatest amount of care.”

“How are you so sure of that? The rest of Westeros doesn’t treat bastards as Dorne does.”

“Because I have seen how my father treats his daughters; whether times of joy or distress. He tends to them tenderly, and after he spoke with me about her, I have little doubt that Lia Sand’s will be treat differently.”

Rhaenys laid her head on Robb’s shoulder; the man pulling her closer to him. As they settled into another comfortable silence, Rhaenys chose to put her trust in Robb’s judgement, but thought it couldn’t hurt to say a little prayer for her friend to any God who chose to listen.

*****

Finding a moment reprieve Dany slips out of the nursery; making her way down the stairs to sit in the gardens. Never one to dwell too much in such a place, she has found that the gardens at Storm’s End offer her a familiar comfort of sitting in the gardens at the Red Keep with her mother.

As though she conjured her up with her thoughts, seated on a stone bench overlooking the sea lavender that grows in abundance sat the Queen Mother.

“Catching a bit of the sea air, Mother?”

Turning to look over her shoulder, Dany couldn’t help but think how young her mother looked. Reminded once again how young she was when she birthed Rhaegar. She was a child, really, an understanding Dany had as she herself came into motherhood as a true woman grown...and not like a child called a woman grown because she could bleed. 

“I find this spot reminds me of the Red Keep just a bit...if I close my eyes just so.” Her mother’s narrowed eyes made Dany’s laughter ring for she could see very little similarities between her new home and her old. 

Settling herself on a spot that her mother made for her, Dany finds comfort in her mother seeking out her hand and holding it carefully as she was still a child. Perhaps for her mother, Dany would always be that in a certain way...her child. She sees her relationship with Rhaella through different eyes now. 

“I wanted to thank you, Mother.” Her emotions still out of her control, Dany found her gentle feelings rising to the surface.

“Thank me for what, my dear.”

“I always knew you loved me and my brothers. It was never a doubt I ever had.”

“I would surely hope not. I feel as though I have made my feelings very clear on the subject...even when I am highly vexed and crossed with you.” The older woman’s soft smile pulls at Dany’s own lips.

“It’s just that until I became with child and experienced their growth and birth, I never truly knew what it meant to fall in love so deeply...to love as a mother. It is a level that has no true words that one could use to describe it with complete justice.”

Rhaella’s smile widen, her arm rising above to pull Dany into a warm embrace. 

“There is nothing like a mother’s love...or a father’s who truly wants a child.” Rhaella pushed back a loose strand of hair from Dany’s updo.

“I think I can understand why Rhaegar’s has been so insistent to bring his children back home; as though they had never been gone. How he must have grieved for them?” Dany surmises.

“The loss of a child, my love, hallows you out.” Her mother’s eyes seeming to lose their vibrancy with every word spoken. 

“Every birthday, milestone, or resurfacing of a fond memory just cuts out pieces of your heart...of your person. You have very few options under such adversity. You can choose to let it consume you until you are completely lost and gone, or you can push through...with the occasional reminders of pain that brings you to your knees.”

Dany pondered, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Seems Rhaegar chose the latter.”

Feeling her mother’s movement in assent. “I would say for a time he straddled both, until he found purchase in the latter.”

“Even though they are back, it will never leave him, will it?”

“No. The damage is done. But it serves to remember that the damage was largely by his design.”

“A pity.” Dany murmured. 

“In many ways, yes. But I am not sure why you are thanking _me_ though.”

Remembering why she chose to broach this conversation with her mother, Dany resumes. 

“I know who and what my sire was...and how he treated you.”

“Daenerys...” Rhaella tried to stop her from continuing. 

Pushing past her mother’s attempt to end the conversation, Dany tells her what has been resting on her heart for a long time. 

“No, please let me finish. I can only imagine what your life must have been like with him. It is no secret how I was brought into this world. The only thing I wanted to say is thank you for loving me as fiercely as you do. Now that I am a mother myself, I can only scratch the surface of how deeply your love runs for me, even though no one would blame you if you hated me instead.”

“Oh, my child. Have you lived your whole life with this concern?” Her mother looked horrified. 

“No...not in the least.” She tries desperately to explain so that her mother understands that this is not guilt, but rather a newfound awareness that demands recognition. “It’s just having the boys has changed me. It has changed how I see motherhood...now through the eyes of a daughter and a mother.”

“I see.” There was a long silence between the women until Dany could feel her mother squeezing her hand affectionately.

“Well in that case, as a mother speaking to a mother, you know that while I accept your appreciation; it was never a requirement of my loving you. I did, and do so, willingly and gladly.”

Acknowledging her own mother’s words and intent, Dany saw the wetness in her mother’s eyes as she kept her tears from falling. Both women released a shuttered sigh as they sat in companionable silence. 

A short moment later, Dany spies Aemon and Margaery walking through the gardens below. His dark hair bent close to the Lady’s ear, the sly tilt of his mouth that Dany is sure is uttering something scandalous...the rascal, how she loves him. What is not lost on her is how smitten Margaery looks. The uninhibited smiles, coquettish expression, and careful touches to his arms and chest all signaled to Dany that this courtship was in full sail. 

“I hope you and Rhaegar know what you are doing in regards to that situation before us.”

“I know you have doubts Mother, but Lady Margaery is sincere in her affections for Aemon, and Aemon is growing genuinely fond of her.”

“Hmmm...I thought he had his eye on the Marbrand girl...Cersei’s daughter. Thought they were writing to each other for a time.”

“While I think he liked her, Aemon sees the benefits of marrying a Tyrell instead. He is quite dutiful and in the process he will find himself with a well-suited wife.”

“Do not mistake me daughter for it isn’t that I don’t think Aemon and Margaery will not suit. I just do not choose to romanticize what they are. Aemon is dutiful, but he is also calculated and ruthless when he chooses to be. He is brutal in a way you choose not to recognize.”

“Aemon would never lay hands on her or any woman in such a way. Mother, how could you even intimate that?” Dany found that earlier calm she shared with her mother evaporating. 

“My love, why must we be both cross with each other on this point. I know my grandson. I know Aemon would not lay his hand in anger on any woman, no matter how provoked he might be. My point to his brutality is this, if Lady Margaery is being untruthful about her intent towards him and our family, he will make it a prioritized task to make her regret such wayward thoughts. On that account you know I am right.”

Dany stopped to think about Aemon. He could be quite vindictive if his trust is broken. It is not hard for her to acknowledge this in him as it is a personality trait they share. Rhaegar always called it an _awakening of the dragon_. One did not remain long in our good standing or our presence when such a slight brought forth that particular quality. 

“Noted Mother mine, but I do not worry for I sincerely believe that Lady Margaery’s intentions are clear.”

“Hmmm...I will agree with you that they are clear, but we might have to disagree with whose clarity in this regard is accurate.”

Not desiring to argue once again on this topic with her mother, Dany returns her attention to the couple who have spotted them. 

Noticing that Ser Loras is not chaperoning the couple, and seeing that she has not seen her husband since they broke their morning fast, Dany turns to her mother. 

“Have you by any chance seen Renly? We were supposed to have a midday meal together, just the two of us.” Midday was fast approaching and still no sign of her own beloved. 

She recently found that they had little time with each other and she wanted to set time every day for them to reconnect...for she thought he felt more distant that usual. Dany though that perhaps fatherhood appeared to be difficult for him to adapt to, which made reasonable sense considering he never grew up with a model of one himself. 

“I saw him earlier today as I leaving for a morning ride. Both he and Ser Loras went by the way of the sea wall stairs. I imagine he should be about by now. Perhaps he is waiting for you in your shared solar.”

Her mother’s suggestion was sound, so Dany rose; waving goodbye to Aemon and Margaery. “I think you may be right, Mother. I will leave you to your afternoon.” Bending to place a kiss on her mother’s head, Dany rose and walked back to her rooms. 

Dany found herself grateful to be without companion as she entered her shared solar to find the table and lunch ready. She didn’t want a witness to her disappointment to find no husband was there to be found. In a moment of petty weakness, she wondered if Renly was with Loras, and if so, is that why he forgot about her.

*****

It had been years since Ashara stood as the main companion of Princess Elia, now Queen, but it seems her body had not forgotten how to navigate the various walkways of the castle.

Finding herself pressed for time, and looking to avoid Eddard...a so far successful venture if she could say so herself...Ashara turned into what looked like an alcove, but which was just another doorway to another hallway. A hallway that would have taken her straight to Elia’s royal chambers. 

What she hadn’t foreseen was nearly colliding with Queen Lyanna Targaryen. Both women seemingly surprised to see each other. Queen Lyanna’s face guarded while Ashara’s felt her face take on an appearance of distain. She knows she should do better, but she rather be banned from this cursed castle forever than treat with this woman willingly.

Dismissing her Ladies, Queen Lyanna addressed Ashara privately.

“Lady Ashara. I was hoping that you would be kind enough to perhaps have some tea together. My maid just sent an invitation to you this morning. I hope you can find time in your busy schedule for us to meet.” The younger queen looked beyond Ashara’s face, making a faux effort at eye contact.

“Queen Lyanna.” Ashara bowed. “While I appreciate the gesture, I am far to committed to my obligation to Queen Elia and Princess Rhaenys as we prepare for the upcoming nuptials. In fact, they are waiting for me now, if you don’t mind your Grace I really should be going.” Ashara made her curtseyed to depart wanting to get as far away from the woman as she could.

While in her head she blamed Lyanna for many things...her dearest friends humiliation, why she and Eddard could not be, her brother’s loss of honor. It was wildly different having to look into the face of said woman. Something dark and vengeful pooled at the core of Ashara and it grasped at her to act with spite. 

Ashara had taken about ten steps away from the woman before she heard, “Lady Ashara, I have not given permission for your leave.” She froze in mid step. Was this woman truly going to use her power to make Ashara remain in her presence. Before turning back Ashara took a deep cleansing breath. Grateful she had for the look on Lyanna’s face made her want to slap it.

The ramrod straight back, the hands clutched to her front...as though protecting a virtue she gave to a wedded man so long ago, head held eye, brow arched, gray eyes hardened, lips in a firm line.

“Pardon my manners, _your Grace_.” Ashara found the words felt like coarse dirt in her mouth. 

“I understand Lady Ashara that you may not like me. I can even concede that I have done you a personal disservice through my own past actions. It is that knowledge that prompted me to send you the invitation.” Ashara’s eyes never left the woman’s as she walked towards her. 

“I am not sure of what you are speaking of Queen Lyanna. Perhaps you might need to be a bit more specific on the accounts you are referring to.” The desire to scream was strong. Ashara isn’t sure how Elia has lasted here with this woman and not laid her flat. 

Standing before her, with very little space between them, Ashara and Lyanna stood eye to eye. “It has come to my recent attention that you and my brother have a personal history. A history that had been cut short due to certain events that took place around the time of your courtship. Events that had to do with me, which resulted in the inability of both of you to continue your relationship.”

Ashara knew that she was about to step over a line she could not return from. It did not sway her to temper her words as she released them with a quiet calm she did not feel. 

“Are the events you speak of your elopement with the married Crowned Prince Rhaegar that led to his father murdering yours and your brother, while you insulted Dorne by hiding there to birth your babe as my own blood brother betrayed our home as he protected you, leaving Eddard to honor the duty of your House and marry said dead brother’s betrothed?”

Queen Lyanna stiffened as if she had been struck. Her eyes widened just a bit before they narrowed, the gray gaze looked like chips of ice. Lyanna’s full upper slip began to twitch as if to snarl. Seems like the wolf still resides under clothes that make her seem contained and polished. 

“How dare you speak to me that way?” Ashara thought the woman’s voice sounded...hurt. “I am here trying to make an attempt at some amends. While you...”

“You either make the amends and accept how they are taken or you do not bother, but you do not get to do horrendous damage to another Lyanna and expect that the one you harmed should accept your apology or behave in a way that is convenient for you. Once again I find your character lacking. Perhaps this time you should make note of it.” 

Elia’s voice sounded like a tightly coiled snake rattling its tail to ward off a predator...watching and waiting to see if it would need to attack or would the warning suffice.

While her heart found comfort in her friends supportive voice, it quickly ceased beating when she saw the man standing beside her. Eddard.

Queen Lyanna turned to Elia to find her brother standing beside the Dornish Queen. His own upper lip set in a snarl...a trait their daughter shares with him when she is sparring with another who is besting her or when her latest floral experiment fails. 

Eddard’s eyes drifted towards hers and the sudden shift in his countenance...the soft look caused her to turn away. 

“Ashara please wait for me in my chambers. I am sure Rhaenys and her ladies have begun trying on their dresses and are need of a mother’s touch. Please go my dear friend.” Elia’s voice was hard, but Ash knew the rigidity in her tone was mean for Lyanna. She does not envy the path her friend has chosen to walk with Rhaegar and this...woman.

Taking one more discreet look at Eddard before exercising a perfect dip, she turned and walked as quickly as she could to Elia’s rooms while still maintaining the composure of a lady. As she turned to enter Elia’s chamber, she could hear her dear friend speak once more.

“I bring to you your brother with whom you have a scheduled visit. May you enjoy your opportunity to become reacquainted.” 

“Thank you for the charming escort, Queen Elia. You are way to kind to give your time to one such as I.” Eddard’s deep northern brogue sounded so warm and familiar to Ashara’s ears.

“It was a pleasure Lord Stark.” Elia’s tone was kind and sincere as she spoke to her daughter’s future good-father. 

Ashara could hear the soft thud of Elia’s slippers stop movement. 

“Oh, and Queen Lyanna.” Once again Elia’s voice felt scalding to her own ears. 

“It might be in all our best interest if you stayed away from my Lady and her daughter. In fact, consider this a friendly warning to not concern yourself with any one or anything that is mine without consulting me first. Do not err in this regard ever again Lyanna.”

“And if I should. I am Queen here as well, Elia, far longer than you I may add. Will you run to Rhaegar, should you not get your way?”

Elia’s unamused laugh drifted in the wind, but was still heard by Ash. 

“If I go to Rhaegar regarding you Lyanna it is only to prompt him to get his house in order where you are concerned. Consider it a mercy. You should be more concerned if I don’t go to him. For you have been warned. If I see you overstep past these boundaries sister-wife, then there will be no need for Rhaegar. I will attend to you myself.”

Ashara heard the steps resumed, followed by, “Good day Queen Lyanna...Lord Stark. I bid you the warmest of reunions.”

As Elia entered the doorway, Ash saw when the woman noticed her. Without missing a beat Elia clasped Ashara’s hands, and Ash mouthed “thank you, sister.” Together they entered the solar to find just what Elia expected, several young women in varying state of undress as they tried on their gowns for the latest royal wedding.

*****

After a long afternoon of fittings for Robb and Rhaenys’s wedding, Sansa found herself wishing she was in the Water Gardens once again. The heat of the Kings Landing is very different from the heat in Dorne. Living her whole life in the North, Sansa’s recent excursions have developed a healthy appreciation for dry heat versus wet.

Kings Landing felt as though she was walking through walls of water. As she tried to find a cooler space to just sit in quiet, Sansa wondered if perhaps Queen Elia will add some elements of the Water Gardens to the commons here. Finding just the spot to steal a moment’s reprieve, Sansa carefully lowered herself onto the short stone wall as she stared out to sea.

The smell of the capital was unpleasant and made her wish for the crisp fresh air of home. It once had been her mother’s dream that Sansa would move South, finding a match with a Great Southern House. That dream seemed to die every year she found herself giving up a son to the South. Being a mother who could only parent her daughters but was limited in how much she could care for her sons. 

Sansa had found some cautious interest coming from Quentyn Martell, and while she enjoyed the frequent walk with him during her time in the Water Gardens and Sunspear, she found she didn’t want to live in Dorne permanently. Sansa felt she could tell her father that a Southern match would not be something that interested her. She would prefer a match that kept her in the North. 

Yes, a Northern match indeed. A man with a compact build, corded muscles under leathers that made her mind wonder about what exactly laid below, a short beard she could run her slender fingers through allowing her to pull his lips close to hers, long curly hair that he ties back with a strap but allows to hang free when they are alone, and grey eyes that set her aflame as molten iron right before it is casted in a mold. 

In her mind’s eye she see one man who fits such a description, and by birth and status, he is not a Northern man; even though his character reminds her of all the best and worst qualities of a Northern man. 

Jaehaerys Targaryen.

How does she make herself not love him anymore? She couldn’t image living her life as her father or Lady Ashara had. To know that your love was no longer yours because of circumstance; leaving you with little recourse. 

The disturbance of the pebbled path caused Sansa to look for the source of the noise. It was to her greatest joy and heartbreak that the cause was Jae. 

“Lady Sansa.”

Sansa rose and curtseyed as custom dictated. “Prince Jaehaerys.”

Neither one of them said anything further with speech. It was their eyes that always seemed to find themselves in conversation when finding the right words was too hard. 

Walking towards her, and leaving her limited space to step away, Jae pulled her in with his gaze. “I’ve missed you Sansa.”

Terror clawed at her throat. Here was the man she wanted above all others. The person she wanted to build a life with but can’t...and here he stands to demolish the walls she has erected for herself.

“You can’t say things like that. You are spoken for Jaehaerys.”

“Yes, I can, if the words are true. I am spoken for one woman, Sansa, and it’s you.”

“You do not have that freedom to be so familiar your Grace. You are promised to Lady Margaery, why would you continue to pursue me thusly. It has the potential to shame me, Jae...why?”

Resting his hands on her shoulder, Sansa knew she should step away, but she could admit it felt good to feel his hands on her. 

“I am not marrying Lady Margaery. I have spoken to my parents and Queen Elia. I am stepping away from the line of succession. I do not want to be a king. We both know I would not be a good one.” His warm breath touched her cheek as he released a self-deprecating chuckle. 

“How can that be? Aegon came to Dorne and he told Lia he would walk away from the throne. If you both are taking yourself out of consideration, then will Aemon become Crown Prince.”

Jae brushed a heavy piece of long hair away from her shoulder. Turning his eyes to focus out to the sea. 

“My father will make his announcements regarding the realm after Robb and Rhaenys’s wedding, but what I can say is regardless if I take the mantle of King or Lord, I will be walking that path with you.”

“You have no idea how much I want to trust in that, Jae.”

“Trust in it. I have spoken to your father about your hand, with the approval of my own father to back my claim. Your father has even agreed to gift us Sea Dragon Point.”

Sansa’s heart has shuttered. She could not believe it. He was so earnest and sincere. 

“Perhaps I should have agreed when your father asked to speak with you first, but I wanted to be the first to approach you...to ask you properly to be my wife. Will you be my wife, Sansa?”

As she stared at him, her eyes recording his appearance, every muscle, the variation of gray in his eyes. His sincerity radiating through. If Jae was invoking Eddard Stark’s name, then there was no doubt in her mind that his words were true. 

Sansa found that words had left her, so she responded with her body as she launched herself into his arms. He held her tightly, his large hands holding her close to him, the warmth of his palm heating her skin. His whispered words of love into her ear, reviving her beating heart, as tears of joy spilled down her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I look at this body of work (as I uploaded chapter 7 of part 6) and think...how did this come from a 3 chapter one-off?
> 
> A big thank you for the loads of support from you (the readers), because you're the answer to my initial question...lol.
> 
> Hope this chapter didn't disappoint. 
> 
> ~winter


	8. When One Door Closes Another One Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys's life is forever changed and Ashara comes face to face with her past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing...just enjoying come creative activity in the form of writing fanfiction :)
> 
> Only two POV's but they are a little on the angsty side...so consider yourself warned.

One of the maester’s instructions to help Daenerys recover from childbirth is to have her walk for at least half an hour in the morning and in the afternoon. Many times, she finds her mother as her primary companion on these walks, as Margaery can be found spending most of her time with Aemon. 

Dany would ask her husband, but she knows that walking the gardens or the path of the seawall are not the most joyful experiences for him...for he is a man constantly on the move. She will leave him to his day and relish the evenings when he rubs the aches of her feet and back as she tells him about his sons exploits of sleeping and wakefulness. 

Today though would be different. This morning she would spend her required jaunt with Aemon. It seems her mother decided to call on Lord Selwyn Tarth in Evenfall. Her mother had spoken to her of the stories she had heard as a girl regarding the island, but never would her father permit her to visit. Since the Isle of Tarth was so close to Storms End, and after their last unpleasant conversation, her mother decided to give them both some distance even if she disguised it. 

The knock on her bedroom door alerted Dany to her nephew’s prompt arrival. At times it vexed her that none of her nephews were ever late. They were much like her brother in that regard. Timeliness was just not a skill she had herself .

Dany took one more look at her reflection before deciding she looked appropriate enough as the wife of a High Lord. Grabbing her shawl off of the divan, she opened the door to find her dashing nephew awaiting her. His brow rose in judgement she was sure. 

“You’re late.”

Dany scoffed as she rolled her eyes, pushing past him. “You are a pest. That will be enough out of you. Now walk with me nephew.” She could hear her laughter in her own voice. 

“As you command, Princess Daenerys.”

As they walked down the familiar path to the gardens, Dany halted as she came to a corridor that offered her access to the pathway that lead to the stairs that took her down to the beach. 

“I think I am feeling the need to see the sea, Aemon.”

“You can see it well enough from the gardens, you know.”

“Yes, but I think I want to walk the beach. I miss the soft spray of the sea mist when a wave hits the shore. It's why I love walking Dragonstone. What say you? Will you humor me?”

“Always. Are you sure the stairs will not be too much effort for you at this time?”

“I should be fine. We might need to rest a bit here and there, but you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to carry me up the steps; for I know that is your real fear.”

They both laughed as they carried on the path that led to the steps. Wrapping her own arm around Aemon’s, Dany proceeded to pry a bit into his affairs with Margaery...and perhaps gather some information on how her brother plans to proceed with his succession issue.

“So, Aem, care to tell me how your reunion with Lady Margaery went.”

“As expected I suppose. There was an acceptable level of attention, coyness, and virtue in it all.” The younger man smirked as he answered her. “I felt very missed, if you must know.”

Daenerys chuckled at his dry expression. 

“Hmmmm...if I didn’t know you better I would believe you weren’t touched by her attentions, but I do know you. So has she begun to peel at your layers, Aem?”

“ _Peel at my layers?”_

“You are like an onion, my friend. A man made of layers. As one attempts to get through each layer, this can lead to tears until you get to the delights of at the core.”

“Ha! An onion. Should I feel offended? I think I should be, but then again I am a huge fan of onions.”

“Yes, the similarities between your personality and onions isn’t lost on me.”

As they walk the long hallway, Daenerys can see the morning sky peeking through the archway, that would lead her to the steps which would take her to the beach. They are about to pass the last chamber in this passage, a chamber that is only used if the Keep were overflowing with guest. The sound of Margaery’s voice uttering the name “Aemon” made her pause, bringing Aemon to a stop as well. 

They both looked at each other, a shared grin spread across their faces as the silently decided to listen in on the young Margaery.

“Ameon is a bit easy on the eyes.” Margaery chuckled, at who, Dany did not know.

“Hmmm...I would say any and all of King Rhaegar’s sons would fall into that description, Sister. They are quite...fetching if I say so myself.” Ser Loras’s voice dripped with an intonation that made Dany wonder if the young knight was a _"soft fellow"_. 

Dany and Aemon both shared an arch look of surprise at such a comment, for men generally do not describe other men in such a way. While such a life might go against the church, Dany had little care for what other’s chose to do in their beds. When one is a child of parents who were siblings, one grows up with a different perspective on what counts as appropriate intimacy. Dany shrugged her shoulders while Aemon shook his head. 

“So now that the young Prince has returned, have you learned whether he is to take the throne after his father.” 

It was a surprise for Dany to hear her husband’s voice. She could understand the siblings looking for a private place to speak, but why would her husband need to be here. His solar is private enough, is it not, she thought.

“Well after last night’s lovely dinner, we took a stroll through the Keep and into the gardens. After an appropriate amount of flirtation I was able to work that topic into our conversation. I must say the man can be very seductive. I almost lost myself...but alas I remembered my place. He is good, I will say that.”

“And?” Renly prodded.

“All he said was that his father apologized for the insult I must feel, and that should Aemon truly wish to court me properly, then he would allow it.”

“Really, Rhaegar approved the match.”

“It seems so, Brother.” Dany could hear the smile in Marg’s voice. She turned to look up at Aemon, his countenance as neutral as ever. When he noticed her watching him, his smirk made its reappearance on his face paired with a shrug. Her heart soared for her friend. This was good news. 

“And does the Young Prince wish to court you properly?” Loras chortled. Dany could hear movement in the room, as though perhaps someone was getting up. She froze and look towards Aemon who looked calm. Taking a quiet breath, she followed his lead. 

“Well I believe he does. Yesterday he asked me if I would take a ride with him, and perhaps stop to have a picnic along the way. Ren would you be a dear and pour me another glass.” 

“Margie! You will have that man eating out of your hands in no time. Grandmother would be proud.” Her brother applauded her, and while Dany herself had played a hand at bringing Margaery and Aemon together; to hear Ser Loras describe it so made Dany uncomfortable...if not...offended. 

“He is a challenge; of that I can say. I could manage him though. He is already showing signs that he is highly interested in my _personal skills_...though alluded, but never demonstrated.” Dany could hear all three of them laughing at she found herself angry at the frankness and barely disguised vulgarity in their speech about Aemon. 

Dany turned her head towards her nephew. She felt her eyes were flaring with emotion, but Aemon seemed unperturbed. If anything, he appeared interested in their discussion. She should not be surprised for Aemon always says to her, _“Knowledge is its own power, Dany. If you are smart enough to scout it and wield it.”_

“Now tell me about you. I have less than an hour before I need to prepare to be the demurest, yet alluring version of myself for Aemon. Has it felt like a dream with the absence of your goodmother, Ren?”

Dany stiffened at hearing Margaery’s words. Had her husband felt overwhelmed by her mother too? Had her mother made him feel like he was being watched and judge in his own home and Dany hadn’t noticed? 

Anger at mother quickly transferred to herself. Of course, he would hide such feelings, he didn’t want her stressed and feeling as though she needed to choose between him and her family. Gods he was a good man. 

“Oh, it’s been a godsend. In the Reach finding private time was easy, for your family didn’t care much as long as discretion was honored. Once we came here, before the wedding, it was a non-issue.”

The continuing voice, which did not belong to her husband, served as a slap to her face...and Aemon’s as well if the stiffening of his body was any indication. 

“Afterwards, not much changed for Dany kept herself busy during the day, and shortly after found herself with child. Now that Rhaella is here visiting it is hard for us to find the time.”

Daenerys felts confused. Why would her husband and Loras need to find time to be with each other privately? 

“Well she is in Evenfall for a fortnight. Shortly after off for the wedding and back in Kings Landing. So, you will be free to resume your life together once she is gone.” Margaery’s bubbly amusement carried on the winds. 

“It can’t be soon enough. Hopefully your wedding will be next and she’ll have to remain in Kings Landing with you.” Renly sarcasm rang through. Once again the triad in the room laughed heartedly. 

Dany found it hard to breath, her vision becoming hazy; it was the touch of Aemon’s warm hand on hers that kept her tethered to the moment. 

“Well until then I think I can help with that. I can ask Dany to have daily tea time, requiring her mother’s presence as I am trying to get into the Queen Mother’s good graces. Dany will think that getting Queen Rhaella to like me can only work towards our advantage. She’ll request her mother to be present.”

“Not that Dany would be wrong...it would help.” Renly spoke, his voice absent of focus. What was he doing?

“It would, if the old woman didn’t dislike me already. I fear there is little hope there, but since she doesn’t like Queen Lyanna I think I might have an ally in the Queen herself. Which is helpful as Aemon adores his mother.”

The dread Dany had begun to feel listening to his conversation was raging inside of her. She began to slide down the wall, but Aemon’s strong arms held her up. Was she misunderstanding their words? Was her husband...Dany couldn’t continue the thought. No...he could not be. He loves her. He had said so, hadn't he?

“Well Sister, any help will be greatly appreciated. I am not used to getting by with so little...stag in my diet.”

“For the love of the Gods, Brother. You really should play harder to get.” 

“Its fine. This stag enjoys regular steady meals of edible roses.”

“You two are scandalous. I will make it happen. Might I suggest while you are making it happen in this chamber, you also work on airing out this room. It just reeks of your sex.”

The breath Dany had been holding pushed out, but was met against the solid wall of Aemon’s hand...muffling the sound to nearly silent. Hot tears poured out of her eyes and her heart tore open, spilling the contents of a youthful ardent love onto the dull stone floor. 

She felt herself begin to collapse, when Aemon whispered harshy in her ear.

“Not here Daenerys. Not here.”

Dany rose her tear stained face towards Aemon’s. She could not make out much of his feature though the wet film that covered her eyes. The two things that stood out was the ice coldness of his gaze and the quiet fury that radiated off of him. 

The dragon...don’t awaken the dragon. 

A phrase she had been told was one of her father’s favorite. 

A phrase they said her brother Rhaegar revived when he discovered Elia and the children had died on orders of Tywin Lannister. All her life she had trusted that most, if not all the realm, was not willing to resurrect her brother’s dragon. He is still remembered for the brutality he exhibited towards his enemies at the time. To hear it described in a word, it was...chilling.

Now standing before her, the words take on new meaning as her nephew brings his inner dragon to life right before her, and for a brief moment it scared her until she could feel a rising within herself...a deep rage that moved throughout her body; traveling through her blood. 

Dany recognized that her own dragon had arisen. A shared understanding passed between them. Her dearest companion held out his hand, and she placed her inside. Together they looked at the open doorway before returning back to the family section of the Keep. 

Dany did not know what would come next, but what she did know was that Renly and the Tyrells would regret their mistreatment of her love and her trust. 

Once they arrived in her antechamber, Aemon brought her a cup of watered-down wine. 

Her mind reeled and there seemed no way to stop it, nor could she stop the continual shower of tears that fell down her face. Ignorant in betrayals of the heart, for a moment she wondered if this was what Elia felt when she learned that Rhaegar had found another. 

Did she have thoughts of killing her brother when she learned of his duplicity? 

Dany could not imagine these feelings dying...no...not this kind of betrayal. This is seeping into her skin and down into her bones; etching it into her soul. 

Gods does Elia still feel this and yet remains with her brother. How does one do that? How can Dany do that...stay with Renly? 

As Dany consumes her drink, Aemon stirs beside her. 

“I think it’s time we sent a raven, Aunt.”

“Or perhaps two.”

Together they sat in stewing silence, Aemon’s hard gaze looked ahead at the door while Daenerys’s dazed stare off towards the right of the room. Neither one moving until the servants came and brought the boys to her for their next feeding.

*****

Since her arrival to the Red Keep, Ashara has done her best to keep herself and her daughter from Lord Eddard Stark. In public she has found herself in the same chamber as him, but as a Lord of a Great House and she a daughter from a distinguished, yet, minor one, she has been able to remain far removed from him during most events.

The only times she has had to interact with him, Elia has remained diligently by her side making it impossible for Ned to broach the subject she’d like to postpone. If there is any benefit to be found in being in Elia’s inner circle in this accursed place, it is that in private they stand somewhat apart from the world of Queen Lyanna and that is where Ned would be sure to be...just as customs would dictate. 

She knows at he is aware of their daughter. Her conversation with Lady Sansa left little thought in her mind that they young woman had informed her father of her discover. While Ashara has sense the young woman was aware of her daughter’s parentage, she had not thought the meeting was meant to be anything but a confirmation and warning to continue to keep this secret. 

It had shocked her to know that she was aware of Ned and Ashara’s past and that she knew Lia was his daughter. The red-haired beauty only wanted to inform Ashara that her father still cared for her and that the knowledge of a child would wound him, but it would be an injury he would accept. 

If suspecting that Sansa had written her father wasn’t enough to settle her theory, then the letter from Eddard himself confirmed her suspicions entirely. Aj letter she admits she handled poorly...poorly in the sense that she has never replied to it. 

Ashara knew better than to walk the Keep, but in the hour of the wolf, she had expected all to be either asleep or within their chambers at least. She took the chance because she needed air, though spacious her chamber might be, the walls of the Keep were suffocating to her. 

Thinking a nice long walk down the serpentine steps would take her mind away from her troubled thoughts, she never considered that he would be there...up and about on such a night.

The last fortnight is the closest they have been in almost twenty-five years, and it seemed her grace period had run its course because standing before her was the man she had loved and lost.

Wanting to run, but unable too, Ashara did the only thing she could do...acknowledge his presence. 

“Eddard.” She whispered softly, the silence of the night causing her voice to sound louder than it truly was. 

“Ashara.” 

It had been an age since she heard her name said with such a heavy Northern burr...so different from the Dornish inflection she had grown up with. After all these years the sound of her name on his lips made her weak, and her skin break out with bumps. Forcing herself to suppress her desire to shiver as his voice settled over her. 

“I hadn’t expected to find you during my walk. Figured like most you would be asleep.”

“It’s hard to sleep here, the walls remind me too much of the...past...and though I know they are just walls, they seem to move of their own accord to crowd me in. I find it hard to breath here.” His dark gray eyes bore into her, as though this past that he speaks of included her, even though they had never been within these walls until now.

Ashara didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t, which allowed the silence to become more pronounced. She averted her eyes, glancing to the right, trying to look at every and anything that _wasn’t_ him. 

“I’m sure if you had your way, you’d make it a point to avoid me at all cost.” His voice rumbled his censure.

“Are you telling me you do not think it best?”

“I think the woman I knew, the woman who I thought knew me, would have been direct no matter how difficult the topic. I had never hidden or lied to you Lady Ashara.”

Ashara stiffened on hearing name said in such a formal way in such an informal setting. Not after their past. To anyone watching their exchange he seemed calm, but Ashara knew better. He was furious, but more so he was hurt, and she was the central cause of that. It mattered little that she had sound reasons. It would not lessen this hurt.

She could not have this conversation behind a veil of comfort that excused her actions. Knowing that one chose deceit for a good reason does nothing to alter that a deceit had occurred. 

“No, Lord Stark you have always been forthright with your intentions. I always appreciated that about you. It is still refreshing to see that after so many years.” Her voice trembled as they fell from her lips.

This time it was Ned who looked away from her; he looked up to the sky; his lower lip caught in his teeth. The corded muscles of his neck working to either help him say the words he needed to say or to keep the word he wish to keep to himself. A simple man he always was, but contradictory too. 

“A daughter, Ashara. You had my daughter.” The timber of his voice was low, but there was such a thick layer of hurt that she could not ignore. 

“All these years, and nary a word from you. If Sansa never discovered her, I would never have known would I?”

Ashara knew the answer, as did he, but to say the words would only cause them both more pain; so she remained silent. 

Ned just shook his head. 

“Did you hate me that much? I am trying not to lay all the blame at your feet, but you have left me little option. You never replied to my letter; leaving me to speculate your reasons. If you hated me, then it would explain so much.”

The fact was Ashara didn’t hate Ned. All her choices up to this moment had been to protect him because she loved him...and to protect their daughter; the living breathing manifestation of that love. 

“I could never hate you Ned. I loved you with such abandoned; so much so that we left propriety on a mantle for a moment...just so that we could be two people with only love between them and no duty to guide their heads.”

“Then why did you keep her a secret...why did you not tell me?” His voiced quaked with so much fury. An emotion she never thought he would ever direct at her, not that in this moment it wasn’t warranted. 

“Did you not think I had a right to know? Did you think I would not be honorable? I thought you knew the depths of my feelings for you."

“When I had realized I was with child, King Aerys had demanded that I remain in the Red Keep and not attend Princess Elia on Dragonstone...even though she was heavy with child herself. The maester and the septa informed King Aerys of my own developments.”

Ashara looked down, noticing a crack in the stonework; the lines creating divergent paths...much like their lives had taken.

“He made me return to Dorne, but before that he kept me sequestered in the Maidenvault as punishment for being _a Dornish whore_. I was of little consequence, but in hindsight I think _my punishment_ was more to hurt Elia than it was about my own behavior.” 

Ashara was transported back in time, how young she had been when she discovered the existence of Lia. 

“A few moons had passed before I was released.”

“What! Did Arthur not know or Princess Elia?”

“Arthur was with Rhaegar and Elia was on Dragonstone. There was nothing they could do. I was allowed to send two letters, to my brother Atticus and Princess Elia for every moon I remained. I had to keep the letter...pleasant. An expectation guaranteed, as he had the letters read before they were sent.”

“Did he hurt you?” Ned’s anger turned into anguish. 

“No...not the way you might think. I had many lessons from the septas about the path my life would now take that I had behaved in ways unbecoming of a Lady...but then it was to be expected since I was Dornish. That was the constant song that was sung to me every moment of every day...along with it a cup of moon tea, and the reminder to make my choice.”

Ned grasped at her hands; how large they were compared to hers. He pulled them to his chest. Ashara found it so difficult to meet his eyes. If I look at him, I will fall, she thought.

“Oh, Gods Ashara. By the Old Gods I am so sorry you were alone...that I was not there.”

“There was no way you could be. Once I was release I was immediately sent home. When I arrived at Starfall, I was far along and so much had happened. Word had arrived of Prince Aegon’s birth, along with this news came the awareness that your brother and father had died at the hand of King Aerys...and the rumor of Prince Rhaegar’s fleeing with your sister.”

“Atticus wanted to write you. He wanted to demand that you married me, but I told him not to...and in the end he conceded to my wish.”

Pulling away from her slightly, his face a mask of confusion. 

“Why would you want that? I loved you Ashara. Did you not feel the same? Was I wrong about it all? I know matters of the heart never came easily to me, but I thought I finally understood when I found you.” 

He sounded so lost. Was she the cause of that? It caused her eyes to prickle as the tears came. 

“Ned, I wanted it with every beat of my heart.”

“Then why?”

Ashara finally lifted her gaze to meet his, his wounded expression caused her tears to fall faster and her lower lip quivered.

“Jon Arryn had raised his banners as had you. By then I was receiving ravens from Elia and Doran. News had come that there was talk of you and Jon Arryn making an alliance with Lord Tully.”

“Ash...no, don’t say...”

“You needed him, to not have his support could have been the end of you. So I chose; living with your death or you surviving and me living without you.” A gasp of breath seeped away from her. 

“I chose, Ned. I chose.” Her voice a faint whisper.

The tight grip of his hands on her shoulders as he shook her, branded her skin. 

“You stupid, foolish woman.” His sudden lips on hers shocked Ashara to her core. Warm, firm...yet...soft. He consumed her until she realized she was an active participant in this shared feasting. 

She loved him still, and if his kiss was any indication of his feelings...Ned still loved her too. 

They slowly came apart, their eyes focused on nothing but each other. “I’m sorry, Ned. It was the right thing to do...for you and for her.”

“And you?”

“I had a piece of you...in her...and she has been my greatest joy.”

The man she had loved for more than half her life held her against his chest as he nestled his head in her neck. His warm breath leaving a patterned beat with every exhalation. His mouth traced the side of her neck, ending with a kiss right below her ear.

Lifting his head, Ned cupped her face, eyes focused on her. She had missed how his eyes always saw her? He could always see beyond the surface...past her beauty...to the person who resided inside.

“I’m not a man who is good with words. I don’t know if I can ever bring myself to a place where I can thank you for role in the course my life took, but I can admit that if things had been different...the life I had learned to love and the people in it would not have existed without the decision you made for us without my input.”

His cleansing breath caused a strand of her hair to sway in the air. 

“I am angry and some of the anger is fairly directed at you,...”

Ashara dipped her eyes as she nodded in acknowledgement of his words. 

“...but know that if I were given a choice. I too would have chosen you.”

Wanting to disbelieving of his words, Ashara rose her gaze to his in search of truth.

“In defiance of it all, I would have chosen you, Ashara. I would have chosen us.”

As they embraced once again, Ashara knew nothing was alright between them. Perhaps it was never their lot in life to be together. It wasn’t until she heard him speak against her lip, quieting their kiss down to a stop. 

Peeling back from her his hands cupping the back of her head, just as he used to when they were younger, a small tilt of his lips reminding her of the young man he used to be...the young man whose asked his playful older brother to introduce him to her at a feast decades ago. 

“Tell me about Lia. I want to know about my daughter...our daughter.” Ned’s voice was less angry and more hopeful...or was it wonder she heard. 

Ashara debated what to tell him, for there was so much to say. So, looking into his eyes, she began with the one observation that always brought her exasperation and warmth to her heart.

“Lia is...” Ashara paused, thinking how best to say what was on the tip of her tongue.

“Yes...” Ned prompted. Brow creased. Eyes ever so serious. 

“...more a Stark than a Dayne.”

The furrow in his crown smoothed, his gleaming eyes warmed, and his beautiful smile...the one he gifted their daughter...tore across his face.

Even though the light of the morning has yet to rise over this moment; forcing them to acknowledge the limitations their remaining feelings pose in the face of their reality, Ashara just enjoyed the beauty of once again being in the presence of the man who she had loved the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, thoughts?
> 
> As always a big thanks for sending kudos, commenting, bookmarking, and subscribing. It is great motivator!
> 
> ~winter


	9. Interlude III: A Dornish Winter Rose She Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."_
> 
> Ned and Lia finally meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

In the fortnight since his arrival, Brandon and Rickon had arrived as well. Aside from the private conversation with his sister, and required audiences with Rhaegar, Ned had been left to enjoy the reunion of his sons. Gods how they’ve grown.

When the Dornish contingency arrived from Sunspear, Ned stood in the receiving line with his nephew Daeron on his left and Robb standing to his right. He watched as Queen Elia exited the carriage with her daughters following behind. Curious as to Rhaegar’s expression upon seeing his _other wife_ , Ned took a tactfully gander at the King. 

Rhaegar stood regal as ever, while Ned could not see his eyes he could see a warm and gentle smile on the King’s face. A look Ned has seen the King give his sister on the rare occurrences he has been in their presence over the years. 

While Ned could understand loving two women at the same time, he struggled with the arrogance Rhaegar had to expect the realm accept that he would have two. Jae was right. It was a sick and twisted blessing that spared him and his brothers true bastardy. How fortunate they were, when his own daughter could not be spared such a title. 

The soft timber of Rhaegar’s voice as he spoke to Elia was a hard contrast to ugliness that surrounded that particular relationship, he thought. 

It was his son’s gasp that pulled Ned’s attention back to his oldest. Following Robb’s gaze to his future bride, Ned found himself looking downward as a smile pulled at his own lips. 

It causing him to imagine Catelyn’s teasing voice as she would have reminded him that he was the Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell with a loving smile on her lips, and therefore he should model it. 

Sometimes he forgot she was no longer there, and the loss resurfaced. It hurt to see that she no longer stood beside him. Her presence was something he had grown used to, and eventually served as a comfort, now he felt alone.

Yes, we was a Great Lord and he would emulate that, but he could admit his son’s reaction warmed his father’s heart. 

As the royal family was met with the formality that etiquette demanded. Ned’s eyes saw two heads bent close together. One dark brown and one red. His girls had returned. They looked older to him, perhaps more grown in personality rather than in looks. Taking in their hair and dress, he thinks that mayhap some of the Dornish culture agrees with them. 

“Father!” 

Embraces and modest kisses to his leathered cheek ensued as he welcomed back his children. As Arya turned her attention to her brothers, Sansa stepped further into Ned’s space, her words barely counted as a whisper but he heard them all the same. 

“Queen Elia has sent Lady Dayne and Lady Lia to her apartments. They will not enter this way. I think the Queen sought to provide both mother and daughter some privacy before introducing them into Court.”

Ned nodded; his disappointment held within but burning bright in his heart. He would wait. He would not push...at least not yet.

*****

The first time Ned laid eyes on the daughter who was kept secret from him, it was at a presentation ceremony.

The representatives from Dorne where formally introduced to the King and his Court. As one observed the carriages, riders, and bannermen that entered the city with Dornish sigil, it became abundantly clear that the Kingdom of Dorne was in full attendance and support of the union between his son and Queen Elia’s daughter. 

Each house was called in one by one. There was only one house to be called before the Martells, and that was the delegates representing House Dayne. When the man at the door announced the members from Starfall. 

Ned didn’t know where to look first. Thankfully he needn’t decide for Ashara entered on the hand of her nephew Lord Edric Dayne. She was just as stunning as she had been all those years ago, except now there was a maturity...a harsh awareness that comes with the harder life lessons the Gods had in store for us. 

While he wasn’t blind to her beauty, it was always the awareness behind her eyes that pulled him. How she saw the insanity that came with their stations with a clarity he had never seen before. Yet all anyone saw was what she allowed them to see...her beauty served her well in deterring others in seeing her so clearly.

As Ashara made her way to the end of the throne steps, Ned finally saw her as she was walking several paces behind her mother. Sansa’s description of her prepared him little for actually seeing her in living flesh. 

This daughter with Ashara. His firstborn who he never knew existed until recently...she was a beauty. Parts of him and parts of Ashara pieced together to create her. Ned kept his expression controlled, for years as Lord of Winterfell had prepared him to manage his appearance, but he could not stop the fluttering in his heart, nor could he keep his eyes off of her. 

As she bowed before the King, he watched her impeccable curtesy as it was nearly identical in perfection as Sansa’s, unprepared for her eyes to meet his when she stepped back and turned away.

Her Stark eyes met his and in an instant Ned lost another piece of his heart.

*****

It was Queen Elia who approached Ned, asking him as a personal favor to her, that he not approach his ex-lover or their daughter. He shouldn’t have been shocked by the request, but he was. A seasoned man he had grown up to be, so he regulated his own desire and acquiesced to Queen Elia’s demands, with the understanding that he would be granted a private audience soon enough.

A fortnight had passed since Ashara and Lia’s arrival, and it had been a day since his moment with Ashara on the Serpentine Steps.

Now as he stands at the entrance of the Godswood of the Red Keep, Ned considers all he has noticed about Lady Elia Dayne. 

Her appearance in Court with the Dayne family, led many to speculate about the young woman. When word of her being Ashara Dayne’s legitimized bastard, the conversation naturally led to who fathered such a creature. 

Those eyes led to many a debate. Many spoke of his brother Brandon’s affinity for...flirtations. They spoke of the tourney, and for many the “truth” of her parenthood was explained without further deliberations. 

Occasionally the whispers called out his name. The shy brother who could often be found in the company of the lovely Lady herself.

Had her face been a bit longer then there would be no question about her Stark-ness...but atlas it was not as long as Arya’s...for Ashara’s blood softened that feature; creating a source of obscurity that perhaps it wasn’t a Stark who father Ashara Dayne’s grown babe.

The most pressing chatter regarding the possible father, the theory that seemed to surpass the high probability of Brandon or his claim, was that of Prince Doran. When the Court had discovered that it was Prince Doran who legitimized Elia Sand into Lady Elia Dayne, the reasons for such a change in stature abounded. 

As the young woman spent much time with Prince Doran’s and Prince Oberyn’s children, it was assumed that she had grown up in their Court. Ashara’s close connection to the Martell’s just fed the idea...especially as she was often seen in the company of either Dornish prince or Oberyn’s paramour, Ellaria.

The Court’s sharp tongues wagged as they spoke of the estranged marriage between Prince Doran and his wife Mellario...and that perhaps the alluring Lady Ashara played a hand it that. 

With life for a Dornish highborn bastard being a better lot than a bastard in any of the Six Kingdoms, it had been speculated that Lady Ashara would remain in Kings Landing with Queen Elia, and her daughter would remain with her. But unlike his brother who cared to keep his daughters in their bastardy...Prince Doran might not make his daughter a princess, but he would elevate her to being seen as a Lady in this realm by giving her the Dayne name. 

It took every ounce of his restraint to allow the confusion and deception to stand. 

When he began to hear whispers of it, he spoke to Queen Elia for it was her family that was directly impacted by the burgeoning scandal. Ned might have to carry the shame of dishonoring a Lady and having a bastard, but it was his to own...and he would. Ned wanted to publicly claim his daughter even knowing such a decision came at a personal cause to his reputation. 

It was the Queen that asked he remain silent. When he protested and pushed his claim with his reasons why he needed...wanted to recognize Lia, the Dornish Queen eyes took on a sad expression as she simply told him that his desire would cause Lia more harm than his ignorance of her existence caused her. 

Ned remembered the reeling of shock at her declaration, though her words were soft and kind even if the words said caused pain.

_“Lia’s legitimacy opens opportunities she had never thought would be options for her. It is not my place to tell you the how’s and why’s just yet. I think it’s for Ashara or Lia to tell you. But know that if you claim her Ned, there might be larger implications at stake other than just your relationship with her. You could also be endangering Jae and Sansa’s relationship as well.”_

Ned didn’t understand, but the Queen refused to expand further, she just asked him to be patient...a little bit longer, until the women of Starfall approached him. 

Now the time had come. Lady Elia Dayne has asked to take a turn with him in the Godswoods. He was finally going to meet her...speak to her. Ned was a man who managed his emotions with great care, and in this moment he was both excited and terrified. How would this meeting end?

Many spoke of the young woman’s gentle manner towards the servants, her unsuspecting wit with the older Lords of the realm, and her candid observations regarding the behaviors of Courts caught the attention of the most seasoned married ladies.

Her ability to deflect the most snide of comments and innuendos with charm and a smile had petty young lord and ladies standing apart from her, then there is the tender approach she projects with the braver younger sons and daughter of courtiers who were highly interested in the stories that described a Dorne so different from the Westeros they know. 

She had even caught the eyes of a few first sons who were interested in securing an alliance with the Prince of Dorne. For the even the bastard daughter of a King has worth to this lot, he thought with disgust. 

While the rest of the realm held its prejudices against the Dornish still, the amount of power and wealth that Dorne was able to accumulate after they gain their independence; through substantial trade agreements and powerful marriage alliances of King Doran’s two oldest children to wealthy noble families of Essos was enough to make the most prejudice of Westerosi willing to welcome her into their House. 

The most notable suitor was that of Willas Tyrell. As a whole, when considered the daughter of a man equivalent to a King and a Lady of a distinguished House, even in bastardy Lady Elia Dayne bloodline was quickly making her one of the most sought out newcomers to this Court...a Court that is overly infested with rats, he thought. 

Through it all he could say nary a word. 

His children were now aware of his secret. They too now harbored the truth that threatened to spill forth from his lips. But Ned remembered Elia’s words. He knew that life for a bastard was not an easy one, no matter how privileged it might be. 

Claiming his daughter had more to do with him and less about her...at least that is what he told himself...for he had no idea how Lady Elia Dayne felt about him. None.

The clear sound of a woman’s heel against stone pulled his attention to the present. Turning towards the direction of the sound, Ned was stunned into silence...which is not an easy feat for he is typically a steady man. 

There they were, both mother and...daughter. The other life he could of had.

“Lord Stark.”

“Lady Dayne.”

The tension between the three was unmistakable. Ned was sure his heart was beating so loud that it could be heard as far as the Flea Bottom.

“Might I introduce you to my daughter.” Ashara wet her lips, the tip of her tongue swiped across her lips. Ned sighed. “Lord Stark, my daughter Lady Elia Dayne.”

Ned stood before his daughter. Finally, she was close enough for him to touch. She was dressed splendidly...a Dornish style it seemed, but with Northern colors of soft grey and cool blues. If Ned stared too long he might find himself staring at a slightly altered version of his sister. 

How could they see her and think a Martell? He scoffed inside his head. She wore the stamp of her family line just as clearly as Lyanna’s son’s did. This woman’s blood ran with that of the First Men, the blood of the Starks, and she had the appearance that came with it...if not the name. 

In an automatic response, Ned offered his arm. 

“My Lady Elia. Would you like to take a turn in the Godswoods with me?” 

Ned held his breath. Even though he knew she had come to meet him, he took nothing for granted. She had every opportunity to remove herself and leaving him where he had always been where she was concerned...on the outside. 

The young woman looked at his proffered arm, looked up to her mother, before turning her gaze to him. With a cautious smile that looked much like his own, she accepted his arm as she followed him into the Godswood. 

They remained quiet in their journey to the weirwood tree...the center of the Godswoods. Her hand was cool on top of his. He contributed it to a bit of the North in her, he thinks. 

As they walk, Ned takes discreet looks in her direction and at times he finds her doing the same. Finally, they make their way to the center of the Godswoods, where nary a person could be found...well no one except them. 

“Its lovely. I suppose. We don’t have a Godswood in Dorne...no weirwood to speak of.” Her voice had the Dornish intonation that had caught his attention when her mother spoke to him so many years ago. 

“I imagine not. They are a hearty tree, but they do require a bit more natural elements than Dorne can provide. Though I know Dorne has it’s own allure. Never has a lemon tree grown in the natural conditions of the North...nor do we have access to the sea. At least not the sea that was once described to me a long time ago.”

She smiled at him, a soft chuckle under her breath, he was sure of it...and it warmed his heart. 

“Dorne is the most wonderful place, but I admit I am biased. While I have adapted to live in the sun and the sand, I have always craved flowers and trees...the greens and the vivid colors. I find places with a high concentration of trees and flowers highly restorative...and a bit cooler in temperature.” 

She dips her head, as if perhaps she had said too much and was surprised by that sudden self-awareness. It is an expression he remembered engaging in as a young man living in the Vale. This foreboding sense of oversharing his thoughts.

“I have never been to Dorne. How does one create such an environment such as that? Where have you seen it? I find it is hard to imagine something you have never seen before. I find that I am sadly a very literal man, so my imagination only goes so far.”

“I doubt that is true. I heard during the Rebellion you were quite successful during your campaigns. Those rumors just grew during the Greyjoy Rebellion. I think one must have a very high capacity for seeing all the ways another opponent might chose to act. That takes a bit of imagination wouldn’t you say.”

Lia peered up at him. He realized that she was tall, but short enough that she needed to look up to meet his eyes, much like Sansa. Though he found himself seeing how those eyes were different from Arya’s. An almost impossible feat considering the shape and shade of their eyes were fairly exact. 

Perhaps his musing kept him silent too long for she apologized for her “impertinent comment”. 

“No, you misunderstand my silence. The question, though surprising since no one ever mentions the Usurper Rebellion in the capital. A word of caution, never mention it again for those who question your motives will use that information and bring it to the King.”

“Noted, Lord Stark. Again, I apologize.” She bit her lip. How was it that she and the daughter that he raised, shared similar mannerisms? It was marvel to Ned. 

“I guess you are right to a degree. There is a bit of imagination needed to be successful in battle.” Leaning into her, he narrows his eyes as he whispers; a smile tugging on his lips. “So perhaps I am more imaginative than I thought. Thank you for the revelation, Lady Elia.”

Her shoulders folded inward slightly as she laughed softly at his teasing manner. 

“So, you never did say where you saw this forested haven.”

“Hmmm...Sunspear would have to hold my earliest memories. Lemonwood has a lovely garden as well. I always had an interest in growing things...particularly trees, plants, and flowers. Uncle Atticus made sure my septa and the maester taught me the art of creating a garden and how to tend to it. Over the years I have grown a significant garden in Starfall, complete with a small wooded area of trees that thrive in the Dornish climate.”

“Truly, you built such a garden. That is very impressive, my Lady.” Ned looked to the young woman. He knew very little about creating and maintaining gardens, trees, or crops. As a Lord he knew the importance these things played in the survival of his people, but the mechanics of it all was left to those responsible for preserving it.

It brought a warm feeling that he had a daughter who understood what it took to bring life from nothing but sun, water, and seed. He supposed she understood the challenges the common farmer must encounter when tending to sunlight, water, and dirt at the ground refused to bring forth a bounty. 

Ashara had done a impressive job raising the young woman before him. 

Just as Catelyn had done with their girls. 

Sansa who is well adept at managing a House but who could also see many steps ahead and worked to address challenges before they became unmanageable to rectify. 

While Arya was a warrior, a woman who would not walk a simple path, but she was strong enough to accept the consequences that came with her choices.

These strong young women. All his, but only two he can claim any influence on their persons. 

The conversation lulled, polite conversation sitting idle. As a man who prides and values directness, Ned was not sure how much of himself he could be with this child of his, for she did not know him and he did not want to scare her. 

“I do not know how to proceed with matters between us Lady Elia.”

“Just Lia, please.”

“Very well, Lia.” Ned cleared his voice before proceeding. His mouth feeling dry, his nervousness of being around her increasing; all in anticipation of how their outing might end. 

“I have recently learned about you. Discovering the reasons that caused your mother to make the decisions she had has been a revelation of sorts.”

"I imagine that it has, my Lord.”

“Eddard, please. No one calls me that though, except for my mother...a long time ago. I will admit I miss the sound of my name said with a woman accent. Would you do this old man the honor and use my proper name, Lia?”

Lia stared at him, he could see a gleam cover her gaze, making the gray of her eyes shimmer like jewels. The sight pulled at Ned. Before him was a vulnerable child, well perhaps not a child, but his child and he found himself pulled to want to protect her. 

Gently clearing her throat, with a slender-fingered hand at her lips, she sent him a shy grin. 

“It would be my pleasure, Eddard.”

Ned looked around the wooded area, trying to collect his thoughts before resuming. He didn’t want to blame Ashara but he had no idea where he stood with Lia and what she wanted from him. He didn’t know if she would be open to accepting what he wanted to offer. 

Ned had to prepare himself for the knowledge that this creature might not need nor want him in her life. 

“I guess what I am asking is how do you feel about all of this. What is it that you want from me? You are not a child, but a woman grown. A life you have lived without my attentions. I do not want to disrupt the peace you have in your life, no matter how much I want to know you...even to the point of publicly claiming you should you want it. I will follow your lead on how to proceed should you have another path in mind.” 

His Northern brogue sounded harsher than he had intended, Ned knows his fierceness can be misunderstood. Ashara intuitively understood and in time Catelyn learned to see it for what it was. Would Lia? Was he ending any chance to know her by being himself without an interpreter of sorts?

Wiping his hand across his mouth, he kept his gaze on her face, taking in any whisper of expression she divulged. However, as he watched her, Ned notices that she revealed very little. Under the stress that would fell most people, she was controlled. Much like him, he thought, but with her mother’s Lady’s grace. He wonder if she ever lost her head when the wolf-blood became too much. Ned presumed she had a long fuse, much like him. 

“If you had asked me this question a moon ago I would have leapt at the opportunity to move with you in such an open way.” She turned away and began to slowly pace. Ned felt his heart deflate if just a bit. 

“I always knew you hadn’t known about me. Please know I do not say this because I harbor chronic anger at you for not knowing. It’s just things are different for me. But then that has always been my story. Part of this world, but held slightly apart.” 

Lia’s voice tapered towards the end of her speech...so softly said that Ned almost didn’t hear her. She took a quick breath before continuing. Her gaze set ahead of her as she paced. 

“For as long as I could remember I have wanted two things. I wished to know my father...and not just a superficial awareness of my existence, but a true father-daughter relationship where my father loves me or cares enough to want to learn about me so that he could love me truthfully.”

Ned felt his knees tremble as she spoke, could she want what he wanted. Could he have his daughter? There was a dark shadow that suggested that perhaps the other thing she wanted would counter this joy. Daring himself to ask. 

“And the other?”

The young woman turned to look at him, she walked closer to stand before him. Back straight, eyes pained, expression sad.

“To find a love that wants me as much as I want him. A love that would be willing to put me first. I know that might seem foolish to you, but my whole existence has been a perverted testament to duty, and it has left me feeling less than I probably should had you and my mother married.”

Her eyes filled, and Ned found himself at a loss as to what he should do. He want to hold her, but once again he wondered if she would welcome it.

“I am not afraid of duty, please do not think I wish to escape it, but I grew up without a father because he had a duty to defend his House and see to it survival. I had a mother who chose a life of being labeled as a loose woman because she bore a child out of wedlock...a choice she made so that you could do your duty. A duty that granted you the best chance to outlive the war.”

“Lia...I never would have wished that for you either. If I had only known, Sweet Girl.” The endearment unconsciously slipping from his lips. It felt right, he thought. Sansa was his Red Wolf, Arya was his Little Warrior, and Lia...she was a Sweet Girl, his Sweet Girl. 

She rose her hand, and placed it on his heart. Ned’s eyes drawn to the action. His own hand reached out to cup her face. The tears still there, and still painful for him to see. 

“I found someone who doesn’t see me as a duty, but rather wants me by his side as he fulfills his duties...as those expected of one of his station. He is willing to give it all up for me, but I do not want him to. This life he is meant to lead, it is larger than just me or him, though he would dismiss such words.”

“Seems as though he is clear in his intentions.” Ned’s voice sounded strangled to his own ears. This love would be the death sentence to ever having a relationship with Lia. He wasn’t sure how he knew this, but he knew.

“He is.” Lia’s other hand is now touching his as he still holds her face tenderly. Her tears spill over as they stare at each other. 

“He can still have the life and duty that was ordained for him from the day he was born. I can’t be the one to walk with him on this path if I am the bastard daughter of Lord Eddard Stark.”

“But you can be with him on this path, if you are the bastard daughter of Lady Ashara Dayne.” 

Ned’s voice was laced in confusion. He didn’t understand. Bastardy was bastardy, did it matter to which house claimed her. 

It wasn’t until Ned saw Aegon Targaryen walk into the periphery of his vision, and he witnessed the warm smile Lia exchanged with the Prince, that Ned made the connection. 

The current Queen was a Stark...and her title comes with ill-will by most of the realm. 

His oldest son was to marry the Princess of the current King of the Six Kingdoms. 

Jaehaerys has officially sought Sansa’s hand in marriage. Though he does not want the crown, it doesn’t mean he can’t be called to lead as Prince or King should he have to. 

And should it become common news of Lia’s parentage, then a third child of Lord Eddard Stark would be wedded to the next King. 

Four Starks tied to the Crown. The realm, led by the Tyrells no doubt, would lead another rebellion. 

Lia reverted attention back to Ned. He cupped her face with both of his large hands. His eyes cataloging her features, her eyes, the arch of her brow, the curve of her cheeks, the similarity in their features and the differences she seemed to have captured from her mother. Ned took it all in for this might be the first and last time he could be so familiar with her. 

“I think I understand, Sweet Girl.” Ned whispered.

“Do you?” She wondered aloud; her voice sounding adrift.

“Better you be seen as the illegitimate daughter of The Prince of Dorne than mine.”

“Dorne...might consider returning to the realm should Aegon ascend. But they would require a good-faith marriage since King Rhaegar shamed Queen Elia, and therefore angered and insulted Dorne on her behalf.”

“And you would be that good-faith marriage.” Lia nodded. The dam that permitted her tears to only trickle had burst. Her tears plentiful and the heartache in the sound tore and Ned, prompting him to do what he had done for his daughters when they were bereft.

Ned pulled Lia into his arms, ignoring Aegon’s quick movements to reach Lia’s side. His look must have spoken volumes because the young man looked away. Aegon’s pained expression, as he looked at them in that moment, made Ned wonder what a sight they made.

What pained Aegon the most? Was it the harsh cries which came forth from the young woman he loved and who Ned might never get the chance to truly know? Was it the sight of a sorrowful old man holding on to the past he lost or a young woman who was clutching on to a future she couldn’t keep?

“Lia...” Aegon’s voice was soft as not to startle her.

The shudders of her sobs had settled down considerably to a quiet weeping. Lia pulled back; her face tracked with tears. She looked much like his sister, but she didn’t illcit the same type of emotions...no, this girl, this young woman was his daughter...and if she needed him to stay in the dark as he always had been, then he would remain so. 

Even if it killed him, chipped at his pride, and soiled his honor. For her, for this slip of a girl, he would bend. 

“You don’t need to do this my Love. We don’t need to do this. I will go to my father right now. You don’t have to choose, Lia.”

Lia turned to look at Aegon, the young man took his handkerchief and began to gentle wipe her tears away. Ned was overwhelmed with the intimacy of that moment. It wasn’t as though Aegon was acting unseemly, his focus was entirely on Lia, but the intensity shook him. 

This was a man who loved his daughter. He would step aside his duty if she asked him to, and in doing so allow another sibling to take the mantle; allowing stability to remain in the realm and within their House.

Wouldn’t that have been the sacrifice Ned was willing to make? If his father had lived and Brandon had died, Ned would have still demanded Ashara’s hand. Of that, Ned is sure. He would have step aside allowing Benjen to ascend in need be. 

What would the realm make of that, he thought? Good ole honorable and dutiful Ned stepping aside from being the dutiful son so that he could live in Dorne with his love. Ned couldn’t go back and give Lia the life she should have had with him at the start of her existence, but he could try to ensure that the remainder of her life was a promising one. 

Ned huffed out a breath. “No Lia, Prince Aegon is right, you do not. You spent your whole life being a secret I didn’t know I had. I think it is my turn to return the favor, don’t you think.” 

Forcing a smile, which he was sure looked like a grimace, he continued. 

“I just want to know you, as I sense that is what you want from me too. We do not owe the world anything.” Ned decided he would take her in any way he could...that it would be enough to know her, even if she never called him _"Father"_ in public.

“You truly believe that.” Her eyes seemed so unsure. The sight pulled at him.

Ned knew regardless of Ashara’s choices and the responsibility she held for keeping Lia a secret from him, that he was still directly accountable for the uncertainty in his daughter’s eyes. Pledging to work towards taking that doubt away, Ned reached out to hold both her smaller hands inside his larger ones. 

“I am sure between your Prince and both your mothers we can figure something out.” 

Lia stared up at him, cautious hope bloomed in her eyes as she turned to look at Aegon before returning her gaze to Ned; her lips quavered as she bravely took a step to meet him halfway. 

To the world they are courting deceit and for her Ned will accept that and the consequences of it all should it be revealed, but to those that matter, they will live and love each other in open honesty. 

Yes, he thought, looking to those eyes so much like his own, he would gladly walk this path for she is worth it. 

Letting his hand touch her hair, that fear combined with hope that shone through her eyes...well it undid him. 

“Do not fret, for I am not planning to disappear, Sweet Girl!”

Lia threw her arms around Ned neck and he held her close...as though they had embraced this way her whole entire life. 

Forgetting that the young Prince was there, Aegon stepped back affording them some privacy, but Ned did send the young man a look at said in no uncertain terms that they would speak privately...the topic currently nestled in Ned’s arms. 

It warmed the father’s heart to see the young man stand at nervous attention as he sent Ned’s a nod of acknowledgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm....kudos to those who speculated correctly on how Ned would handle Lia's parentage.
> 
> What do you think? 
> 
> I love hearing your thoughts. I know this chapter might give people pause.
> 
> There is one chapter before the Elia and Lyanna confrontation....and I still have trouble getting fingers to keyboard. I have so many things I want both women to say, so it has become overwhelming. 
> 
> So now we have come to the audience participation part of the story...I am curious as you what YOU would like to see said/addressed during their argument. What tone are you expecting? What points to do think are "must" for Elia and Lyanna to address? Past, present, future...
> 
> Maybe your thoughts might help me narrow it down. 
> 
> ~winter


	10. You Think You Know But You Truly Know Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some quiet family time before the clouds begin to gather around the Targaryen. Rhaella returns. Sansa meets with Lyanna. Rhaenys shares her fears regarding Elia's latest endeavor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these character...I only admit to loving them and twisting them to fit stories I want to read...lol.

It was warmer than usual in the forests today, almost too warm to have a picnic, Rhaenys thought. 

Needing to get away from the Red Keep, if only for a moment, Visenya had suggested having a picnic in the Kingswood. At the time the idea seemed perfect, but now that the weather has turned a bit more humid she gently questioned their decision to come. 

The servants attempted to send them with tents, chairs, and tables, but Rhaenys and her Dornish family sent each other shared looks that echoed the same sentiment...blankets, and a few baskets of food and flasks of drink, would suffice. This is how they enjoyed spending time with each other...during cooler weather. The tents they saved for the harshest of seasons.

It was Visenya’s idea to invite their brothers and the Starks. That decision had Rhae thinking the discomfort of the climate was well worth the endeavor, especially when she felt Robb’s strong hands around her waist as he helped her down from her mare. Hmmm...any reason to touch will always with be worth the sacrifice, she thinks to herself. 

Rhaenys runs her fingers through Robb’s hair as he rest his head on her lap, one of his long legs resting on top of another. Her gaze roams over the blanket to see the other people in their party. 

Aegon seated near Lia, but not close enough to be deem improper but to a stranger coming upon them it could signal a mutual interest.

Jaehaerys and Sansa, Visenya and Daeron, and her Uncle Oberyn’s daughters: Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene. Perhaps if the weather holds, at the bare minimum, they could do this again when Arianne arrives and this time her brothers could join them. 

Her cousins Trystane and Quentyn decided to remain at the Keep with their father while he met with the King.

In fact, all their fathers were at the Keep meeting with the King...Lord Eddard, Princes Doran and Oberyn, along with his Queens. This was the third day they had met and it was drawing the attention of the Lords and Ladies who arrived early for Rhaenys wedding.

“So, who wants to wager our fathers will be called to meet with the king on the morrow?” Obara sniggered as she popped a green grape into her mouth. 

“I’m more interested on why they are meeting with him. Father was...vague, and Ellaria just smiled and shrugged when we tried to get any intel out of her.” Tyene looked at her sister. How different they were in appearance, Rhaenys thought. The variances much more acute than the ones between Rhaenys and her own sister. 

Nymeria stabbed a piece of cheese with a stiletto, bringing the cube towards her mouth. “That behavior is highly unlike Father or Ellaria, truth be told, so whatever it is I imagine it to be of the upmost of importance.” 

Visenya was resting on her back, violet eyes gazing intently at the patch of sky in between the thicket of trees surrounding them. Her countenance seemed unperturbed, but her voice was laced with shrewdness.

“These meetings began after father received a letter from Storm’s End.”

“Ah yes, you were with father. Hmmm...why were you with father?” 

Daeron asked as he reached over for a peach tart, nearly consuming it in one bite. As someone who has lived with him for almost two years, Rhaenys is aware that her brother has been raised with better etiquette than he tends to demonstrate when in the company of family. 

Rhae noticed how everyone’s eyes were on Vissy, but her sister seemed unperturbed by the attention. How she wished she had that kind of easy with being the center of attention. 

“He had wanted to ensure that with all the focus on the wedding, that I hadn’t felt neglected in any way. We had a private lunch. I caught him up on our exploits in the Westerlands and Dorne. He asked me about Ser Humpfrey.”

“Ha!” Daeron burst of laughter caused everyone to join in on teasing her sister. Rhaenys is so private. She would never tell her family of her interest in Robb...not in such a public way, but that was Vissy’s way. 

“Hmph...piss off. It was a thoughtful gesture. A lovely lunch. Unlike you barbarians, I relish spending the private time with father. He’s different when the public attention is turned off. I quite enjoy him that way.”

Rhaenys imagined her sister did. She knows her sister misses Jaime, but she is also aware that their father took steps that resulted in a war just so that a second daughter would be born. Vissy doesn’t tell her the specifics on what she and father communicate about, but the prophecy has been a topic. 

If her mother knew she would raze the Keep with her father in it, but Rhaenys knows that Vissy pestered their father until he explained his reasons for pursuing Queen Lyanna. When she discovered he thought the other queen was to birth him a second daughter, it just opened a floodgate of information...information she knows her mother would prefer never to be spoken of. 

After the revelation, matters were stressed between her father and sister; though both worked to ensure her mother was unaware. 

“Did he mention anything?” Aegon asked. He inconspicuously broke a biscuit and passed Lia half of it, his smile was back, Rhaenys considered as she tactfully observed her brother and dearest friend. 

“It was the oddest thing. The letter was for father but it was sent in a correspondence for Ser Arthur.”

Rhae noticed Lia’s perked up at the sound of her uncle’s name. He is an unspoken topic at Starfall...by adamant decree of her Uncle Atticus. 

“Seems Connington was in the Commander’s quarters to discuss some logistics about the wedding when the letter was delivered. Connington demanded to see the letter, but Ser Arthur declined. They brought it to father. Apparently the Commander’s letter directed father to read the letter immediately and privately.”

They all looked at each other, each person trying to guess why that directive was necessary. 

“Father moved towards his hearth, read the letter...though you could see that Connington was trying his best not to pressure father in front of witnesses. He is such a hypocrite...if we weren’t there he would have tried to pressure father.”

“Please remember, you are not just speaking to your father, this is the king. Please adjust your speech accordingly.” 

Rhae and her siblings, Dornish and Northern, recited one of Lord Connington’s favorite phrases. The one each Targaryen child of King Rhaegar had heard more than once during their lifetime. 

“Father...he...it was the strangest thing. We were laughing together before we were interrupted, but when he read that letter...it was like rage just rose within him. Not a chaotic kind either, but the cold type.”

Rising her upper body up, she shifted to her side, lowering her head to her hand. 

“His expression reminded me of you Aeg. Do you remember when those highborn boys tried to steal away with your horse that one summer in Lys? It was like that. To see it on you was scary, but to see it on father...well it was...terrifying.”

“Vissy why didn’t you say something before. Why carry this alone?” Nymeria reached over and patted Visenya’s leg in an affectionate gesture.

Her eyes opened wide as she shrugged out her response. 

“I honestly thought he’d give Connington and Ser Arthur an edict to address whatever was in the letter and the matter would be closed. But instead he called for mother and Lyanna.”

“And they stayed in closed conference for most of the day and into the night.” Jaehaerys continued Vissy’s thought.

Nodding her agreement at their brother, she continued. 

“Exactly. After meeting with our mothers, your fathers have been invited to meet with them.”

“Invite might be to diplomatic a word, Sister.” Jaehaerys smirked at her. 

Visenya threw a cranberry lemon biscuit at her brother. Her aim...accurate as always, if the heavy thud against Jae’s chest was an indicator. Rhaenys dipped her head to hide her smile as Sansa cleaned the crumbs off of Jae’s open doublet. Her soft words _“Jae you did provoke her”_ were gentle but admonishing.

“Do you think something is wrong with Daenerys or the babes?” Vissy wondered.

“Aemon received father’s approval to court Lady Margaery when he recently returned home. He revisited Storm’s End but hasn’t been there very long. Do you think this letter could be about him? Rhaenys curled a piece of Robb's hair as she spoke.

“Perhaps...” Daeron’s voice tapered off, his eyes meeting only Aeg and Jae, Rhaenys noticed. “If father was that mad, maybe Aemon crossed a line beyond courtly love. What if the Lady Margaery were with child?” 

An astonished gasp escaped from several women on the blankets. 

“Or a woman not Lady Margaery...” Jae heavy sigh pulled Rhaenys gaze to him. 

“Aemon...lives his life on his own terms, Sister Dear. It’s not always a bad thing, but it would behoove us to never forget that.” Jae’s smile, always kind, served to lessen the harshness of his words. 

Rhaenys appreciated the thoughtfulness. She is aware that her brother Jae has the ability to be ruthless in sparring and tactics, but that way of being, of thinking...he does not let it define him. He seeks to be a better man than that. It’s comforting to see. 

“The one thing I can say about Father is this, he won’t reveal his hand until he is ready. No clues will be given, not a morsel nor a sign. So, we might as well settle in until the Old Dragon is ready to reveal what he wants us to know.”

*****

Since the discovery of her husband’s infidelity and the boundless treachery of people she thought true friends, Dany has kept to the private company of her nephew and her newly returned mother. It was easy to keep Renly and Tyrells as bay for in sequestering herself she has given them what they wanted was it not.

Margaery made subtle noises that perhaps Aemon would lose interest in her if he didn’t spend some of his day with her. Dany maintained the façade of dear friend, cooing her support when needed while holding Lady Margaery’s hand as a few well-placed tears fell. 

It was a credit to Aemon’s ability, for like many hunting animals he occasionally enjoys playing with his food before he ate it. He made sure his courting gestures were grand enough to make the current bannermen in attendance take notice. Word of Aemon and Margaery was spreading across the Stormlands...and beyond, of that she was sure. 

It took all of Daenerys’s power to keep herself from cutting at this woman’s face with her own fingernails. No, Dany thought, Lady Margaery and her family will learn of her awareness once the pieces were in place. However, until then, she reassured Margaery that Aemon was a blessed help to her spirits now that the malaise of birthing has come to her. It was so _“comforting”_ to see how quickly her nephew seemed to take to the idea of fatherhood. How lucky Lady Margaery would be?

With a false watery smile, that Dany could now see as clearly as the water in her cup, her _friend_ accepted her words and left the topic alone. Even though Dany found it hard to maintain appearance with Margaery regarding Aemon, it was her interactions with her husband that nearly undid her. 

How Renly would come into her chambers and kiss her as though he wasn’t kissing another? And not just another...a man. She had been replaced with a man. How does she compete or perhaps it’s not she that has been replaced? It is clear to her now that Ser Loras Tyrell had been the first and only person to completely own her husband’s heart. 

Every time he laid on their bed, with one of their son’s sleeping beside him, she felt her heart bleed a river of blood as he seemed marveled by their existence. Those looks of adoration she had thought were for her as his wife, as the woman he loved, now operated more like appreciation for serving as a broodmare. For she could give him what his precious Loras could not.

When her mother arrived, she didn’t know how to approach this newfound understanding about her marriage and the people residing in her home. How did she admit to her mother that she had misread things so poorly? Her mother sensed something, of that she knew, her expression altered from joy to wariness as her eyes found hers and Aemon.

They waited until social customs where strictly adhered too, before Daenerys _graciously_ encouraged her husband and _his friends_ to find other modes of entertainment while she privately received her mother. As expected they took the chance to be free of her, and Dany took the moment to reveal the disloyalty she unsuspectingly harbored in her home.

Her mother’s reaction was telling. Quiet and calculated. She had asked how Ameon and Dany proceeded upon discovering the news. 

Together she and Aemon described continuing with the front they had unwittingly been living...or that she had been living, for Aemon was more surprised by Renly and Loras and less by Margaery’s capacity for deep duplicity. They told her they had informed Rhaegar, using a code he once taught them many years ago.

Rhaella just sat back with a goblet dangling from her fingers, her eyes on Dany and Aemon seated directly before her. With a nod, she took a sip of her wine, and proceeded to ask about her newest grandchildren. 

Her reaction was surprising to them both but it was Aemon who spoke to it first. 

“You have nothing more to say on the matter, Grandmother.”

“What else is there to say? I warned my daughter and I cautioned you, though I think you are much less affected by all of this than Daenerys.” The older woman smile was gentle, without the arrogance she could lay claim to. 

Her appearance took a considering expression. “I do not see how a deception of such magnitude could stand, but they are three from two Great Houses and we have much history with both.”

After a long sip of wine, she continued. “I think you have done well to continue the pretenses. Your father and brother will address this in his own way and in his own time. There is naught we can do without making this situation worse than it already is.”

Her mother’s words were rational and it butted up against Dany’s desire to release her ire. 

“I can see daughter that my words do not bring you comfort. I am sincerely sorry that I cannot bring you consolation in this moment. You have every reason to rage, my child, do not think I am blind to that feeling you must be holding tightly within you.”

Daenerys found it impossible to keep her gaze on her mother, her turned her head and stared at nothingness. 

“Do not think that Rhaeger will allow such an insult to pass. He will address it. Now all you can do is wait.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aemon rise as he walked over to the window. “Wait, hmmm.”

“Yes, grandson...we wait.” Her mother’s voice was low and very...cool. Returning to look at her mother, the cold purple stare wasn’t lost on Dany. Her mother was just as angry. Seeing such a sight made Dany feel just a little less alone with her feelings.

“That I can do.” He turned his back to look at her. “Can you?”

“Why do you look towards me?” Dany counters.

“You are a dragon, Aunt? Dragons aren’t always known for their patience.” 

“Might I remind you that you too are a dragon.”

“Ah, ah, ah...” Aemon tsked. “In me also lies the blood of a wolf. I can always wait if the payout is rich with a bountiful kill.”

Dany scoffed at Aemon’s declaration. Ready to continue her counter argument and defend the dragons that they were, she was stopped by Rhaella’s words. 

“As your father got older he became less patient with the dragons-blood that flowed through him. Towards the end he wasn’t a patient dragon at all.” Her soft sigh and quiet voice drew both she and Aemon toward her attentions. 

“My sons are different. Viserys was always a calm and a patient sort, but Rhaegar...” Her voice drifted as her sightless eyes were lost in a memory. 

“...he wasn’t always a patient dragon, if you will remember.”

The start of her brother’s reign is well known by all within this room. The responding silence is deafening.

“Aemon is right. A very astute awareness Aemon on your own character, my dear boy. In you resides a patient wolf...though the deadly dragon walks in quiet companionship with the wolf. If the suggestion you wrote to your father comes to fruition then both halves of you will serve you well in your endeavor.”

His customary smirk appeared on Aemon’s face. “Why thank you, Grandmother, for I think those might have been the kindest words you’ve ever spoken to me..”

A bubble of laughter forced its way through her mother, the older woman shaking her head in exasperation of Aemon’s words...for they all know that is declaration was not true, but rather said in jest.

The seriousness of the situation returned when Rhaella asked Dany is she was ready to play her part in the shared plot.

“You love him still; of that I do not doubt. Even though your hurt Daenerys, you love him and he is the father of your children. Are you ready to walk a path you might never be able to turn away from?”

Dany looked towards Aemon for he asked her a similar question before they sent the letter to the Red Keep. She felt so much and not all her feelings had spaces where she could compartmentalize and explain their existence. 

The one thing she knew was that her children needed to be protected at all cost. They needed to be safe, not only physically and mentally, but politically. The mother in her would not settle for anything less, so if she needed to shelve most of those jumbled emotions towards her husband and his perfidy, then she would...for Osmund and Mychal. 

“Yes I am. If I am to settle in a dismal marriage, then I will be in good company. I ensure it. Renly will never be able to escape it and that provides a perverse warmth in my heart.”

“Oh Dany...” The sadness in her mother’s voice wasn’t lost on her. “I am so sorry, Love. So much planning and preparing by Rhaegar and Lyanna’s all in an effort to provide you with something better than we all found ourselves with.” The Dowager Queen’s voice broke before continuing.

“This should not have been your lot.”

Dany didn’t know how to respond. Hadn’t she felt similarly. Wasn’t that the idea that propelled her to believe her husband was faithful and that the Tyrell’s were genuine friends. The idea that they were the source of her deepest betrayal was nary a thought in her mind. 

She never had to guard herself against others because those who loved her made it a point to only surround her with people who maintained her illusions. Yes, her illusions...the ability to see people only as they presented themselves and never to scratch at their true motivations. 

How this experience has taught her, changed her? Never again will she be so naïve. The survival of her sons couldn’t allow her to be so misguided. Her thoughts go to Elia.

“Perhaps not, but I imagine Elia felt...feels...much the same way. Yet she remains to live a life with Rhaegar and Lyanna while securing her children’s futures.” Dany sent Aemon an apologetic smile before proceeding. 

“Mother, you once told me that it was not fair to blame Elia’s children for the choices their mother made. You pointed out that I had no working understanding of what the situation truly was nor how it presented itself. You guarded me in not being so judgmental.”

Dany took a sip of wine, wishing these words weren’t so difficult to say. The injury to her pride in the grand scheme meant very little, but she didn’t like feeling as though she was betraying her love of her brother and his wife in feeling the way she now did. 

“Why is it so hard to see the plight of others we judge so harshly? A woman enters a marriage with trust and hope...and to have a husband betray it all for his own reasons; with little to no explanations...it goes beyond human ability to forgive, does it not? Yet, as women we are expected to forgive aren’t we?”

Tears slowly slipped down her mother’s face, tears she was sure reflected the tracks that were on her own face. Her mother’s nod answered her question.

Dany continued to look at her mother, and she wondered if she would look like her one day. Strong, guarded, profoundly changed by her life’s journey. The warmth of Aemon’s hand on her shoulder reminded her that she wasn’t alone, though most days she felt it. Resting her hand on top of his in quiet support. 

The knock at the door had the maester entering with a letter from King Rhaegar Targaryen which was sent by rider.

Not sure what the missive would read, Dany told the maester she was sure it was a friendly letter from her brother. However, should anything of note regarding the realm was mentioned, then she would send for him. That promise sent the man away with a smile. 

The three of them stood in a quiet attention as their eyes looked at the letter in Dany’s hands. 

Opening the letter slowly, Daenerys reads the contents. Her eyes focusing on the final decree of her brother. Raising her gaze to her most loved family member, she asks Aemon once more.

“Are you sure you are willing to do this? To tie yourself to her forever.” Dany had no choice but to stay connected to Renly, but Aemon had no obligation. 

“Has he approved our idea?”

Dany nodded.

“Rhaegar agrees with how we gather evidence of Renly and Loras indiscretions, my presentation of it to Renly. Your marriage to Lady Margaery...and more. While the destruction of my marriage was not in Rhaegar’s plans, it seems as though he will not forgo an opportunity to bring the Tyrells to heel.”

Passing the letter to Aemon she take another cleansing breath, feeling sure in her purpose but uncertain about who she now is...or who she will turn out to be. Aemon’s face reminds her of the day they had overheard Renly and the Tyrells. How chilling she thought...to have that expression focused on you.

As Aemon offers his grandmother the letter, he sits beside her, jostling her a bit, as he raises his booted feet onto the end of the table before him. 

“Your mother is to come in about a sennights time.” Rhaella mused aloud.

“Indeed...with my sister Visenya and Robb Stark in attendance as well.” 

“Interesting travel companions one might say.” The older woman continued to ponder, the implication of those three individuals coming to Storm’s End together on account of the matter at hand.

“I think this would be one of those moments where your mother’s House words seem fitting.” Dany looked over towards Aemon before resting her head on his shoulder.

“How do you figure?” Dany could feel the movement of his chin on her head as he spoke. 

Dany notices her mother nod as a gesture of understanding. Her words clarified it so.

“Because my loves, it looks like Winter is coming for Houses Baratheon and Tyrell.”

*****

When Sansa received an invitation to visit her aunt’s chamber, she was surprised, but when she noticed that the invitation was a private one she began to feel less surprised and more apprehensive. Word had reached Court that both Queens were departing the Keep with the wedding in little more than a moon’s turn.

Gossip abounded. Why were they leaving? Where were they going? Would they both return for the nuptials? The suppositions became darker the longer one stood around to listen to them. The worse was the idea that only one queen would ever return, for the Stranger would have taken the other, curtesy of the returning wife. 

Sansa had tried to find Jae, but his father had required his attention since the early morning...along with his brother Aegon...and her father. Arya was sparring and Lia was visiting the city with her Dornish friends...the children of the Princes of Dorne. 

Dressing in a gown that was presentable before a queen, Sansa made sure her appearance was impeccable, once she was sure of her look, she felt the layering of her armor as she remembered the courtesy she would require as she met with the one woman who could undo her. 

All her life, she was told that the Starks were as their sigil suggested...wolves at heart. Her aunt once was a Stark, a wolf, but she hasn’t been that in a long time and Sansa wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed with her. 

While she loved Jae, she never really took to his mother. She never really had to as Lyanna Stark, no Targaryen, stayed away from Winterfell and the North. 

She and her siblings were taught to keep the lone wolf at a distance, no matter what, to harden yourself against her for if we weaken and allow her admittance two things may happen.

She might find balm in the comfort of the pack, even if some might not think her deserving of it, or she might once again attempt to destroy the pack...but this time she’d leave none of them alive. 

All were encouraged to never give her the opportunity. Cold, distant, respect...that was all her Aunt Lyanna could have from any Stark still living. 

Now that Jae has received official consent to court her, Sansa must learn how to navigate her own personal world with a lone wolf roaming around in it. As she stood before the Kingsguard that protected the queen, Sansa waited with an outer calm she didn’t feel, as she was announced. 

What Sansa walked into wasn’t quite what she had expected. Her aunt was walking out of her dressing room with a summer cloak in her hands. Sansa made a quiet curtsey, but the Queen waved it away. 

“Please Sansa, I call on you this day not as a Queen and subject, but rather as a mother looking to speak with her future good-daughter.”

“Of course, your Grace.”

“Lyanna, when in private if you please. You’ll learn soon enough when you marry my son how much you’ll miss being called by your name by those who should feel familiar towards you...royal titles aside.”

The woman began to carefully fold the cloak, her eyes on the garment but occasionally looked up at Sansa.

“May I offer you drink? I have some wine, ale, water...”

“No thank you, Lyanna.”

Lyanna nodded in assent and continued to wrap her garment until she placed it carefully in an open trunk. 

“Have a seat. I imagine you have heard the rumors. Not much stays quiet here for long, but you needn’t worry too much about that since Jae plans to move North.” 

Sansa notices a brave smile on her aunt’s face. Brave she noted because her eyes seem to betray how she truly feels. This might have been a woman that brought the North to its knees, but now she was a mother about to lose a son...much in a way a mother loses her daughter when she weds into a new House.

She hears her parent’s voice, her father’s the loudest, _“It is fine to recognize when a situation has cause for compassion, but you are not required to genuinely offer it. There are behaviors one can engage in to address the symptoms without losing sight of who is requiring your sympathy. Do not forget this my girl, remembering might help you keep your head."_

“I appreciate your advice, Lyanna. Unfortunately, the stories that have arisen since the announcement of your departure have been abundant indeed. It behooves one to mind their own actions. I imagine the decision to leave at such as time comes from a place of positive intent...and nothing more.”

The older version of her sister...sisters looked at her carefully.

Sansa knew what a she-wolf looked like when she was considering a new member into her territory. The eyes are what always gives it away. It’s a look she has perfected, an expression her sisters seem to come by naturally.

“Hmmm...perhaps you give the Crown, or me, too much grace with such a statement. Though I think the outcome in the end is worth the blather that has come about. Sadly, it is not something I can delay.” 

“Of course.” Sansa wasn’t sure what else there was to say.

Her aunt continued to look at Sansa, her expression began to change from assessing to thoughtful. The older woman’s deep exhalation caused Sansa to brace herself. Her reason for doing so unknown.

“My son is a good man. He would...could have been a good king, but he loves you and a marriage between you could not be; not with Jaehaerys as the Crown Prince. At times I find that news...that awareness...vexing.”

“Pardon me, Lyanna...”

“Please let me continue.” Lyanna interrupted her, and part of Sansa was grateful for what was she to say to such words. 

“My life is not a song. It never was, though I am cognizant of the fact that once in my youth I thought it so. A Prince, a destiny...star-cross loves who fought the odds. Sounds grand does it not.” Lyanna scoffed as she leaned over to pour herself a drink and hands one to Sansa. 

Sitting back, after a long sip, she continues. 

“Reality much less so. The actuality of it all is much darker and lonelier than one would expect.”

Sansa can understand regret. She commiserates as much as she can allow herself to. 

“I guess no one truly understands their lot in life until they are actually living it...living the life day to day and withstanding the ebb and flow of what each experience brings to them.”

Lyanna nods slowly, a small pessimistic smile appearing across her face. “How old you?”

“I am nine and ten. Almost twenty.” Sansa wasn’t sure where this conversation was headed. She was usually better at predicting such things. 

“Do you know what I was doing at nine and ten? I was second wife, always a second wife even when we thought her dead...for all the love my husband has for me; Elia is just as important to him.”

Lyanna looked down at the cup in her hands. “At that time, I was a mother, twice over, with a third babe on the way.”

Leaning over to reach for a piece of cheese, Lyanna placed in gingerly between her lips before chewing slowly...as though in deep thought with herself. Sansa remained quiet and observed for there was much one learned in scrutiny.

“I had caused catastrophic injury to my family, my homeland, and the realm. Surrounding me were individuals who loathed me and sought every opportunity to destroy me.”

Sansa was grateful for the drink; she took a long one. 

“What they hadn’t know is that I had already done a spectacular job of destroying myself. See what I mean, my life was never a song. Though some will sing it in the distant future, and it fills me with dread at the thought.”

“Why? Why do you dread a song?” Did it bring her dread for herself or for others, Sansa wondered?

“Songs have never been good for most. My song will encourage some thoughtless girl that she is the exception, and not the rule [1]. Sometimes those suppositions need to be challenged. But she must be sure that want alone cannot be her only evidence, for that will only lead to heartache and devastation for all those touched by it.”

Sansa was surprised by her aunt’s response. While she does not want to soften her heart toward the woman before her, she can accept that perhaps the lone wolf had learned long-lasting lessons from her folly.

“This brings me back to why I asked you to come for a visit. I thought my life would be a song, and along with it any fruits from that song would live on, in a song of their own. For so long I thought Jae’s song was that of Crown Prince and eventually as King.”

“And you still want that for him, but he can’t be that with me...not with your history.” Sansa surmised. 

Angered that this woman sought to influence her to renounce her intent to marry Jaehaerys, she never considered the alternative to Lyanna’s intent until she replied. 

“No. I realize that Jae’s song wasn’t destined, not it the way I had thought. My son is intent to make his own song...a song that he will write with you.”

Sansa’s mind froze. Was this her aunt’s way of giving Sansa her personal approval to their match.

“I love my son, Sansa. I want him to be happy, but I also realize that _love_ is not something guaranteed for people in our positions. You two have the chance though, with your acceptance of the limitations your union will hold, and the public approval to walk your own path together in open truth...”

Sansa found herself biting her lip as she continued to listened to what Lyanna would say.

“...Together, you and Jae just might be the exception. I want you to be the exception.”

Sansa felt her eyes widen slightly. “Why?”

“Of all my sons, Jae is the one who has felt the heaviest burden of his father and my choices. His brothers have been spared much of it; I must say. If the Gods could spare it, then I hope that he finds his worries lifted by your match. He needn’t worry about his parent’s mistakes and obligations...he has brothers who can help shoulder the responsibilities.” 

Embolden to treat with Lyanna, for Sansa wanted the woman to understand that as her husband Jae will be hers and under the protection of her she-wolf. “And is this restructuring of _responsibilities_ part of the reason why you are leaving?”

The smirk on her aunts face looked so much like Arya’s, Sansa never thought of her aunt as a Stark, but in that moment Queen Lyanna Targaryen was all Stark. 

Sansa knew she was being assessed by Lyanna, but that concerned her little for she was in the midst of her own examination of the woman before her. 

After a slow nod to discussion only Lyanna was privy to, she proceeded to address Sansa’s question with a single word.

“Yes.”

Sensing the end of the discussion. Sansa rose carefully as she placed the cup gently on the table.

“Then I wish you good weather and positive traveling condition, Lyanna, along with a speedy return.”

Lyanna remained seated, crossing one long leg over the other...her gray eyes sweeping over Sansa’s long form. 

“Thank you for your generous words. I leave early in the morning so this will be the last time we speak until my return. I trust you will keep Jaehaerys mind on his plans for Sea Dragon Point. While I fully stand behind my comment that my son is a good man, a home requires a woman’s touch. I encourage you to look over his most recent proposal for the family residences.” Lyanna sent her another smirk, but this one was more playful and less lethal. 

“Hmmm...I feel there is a story there.”

Rising up to stand before Sansa, Lyanna chuckles softly under her breath. 

“That there is but it seems I have run out of time to share in another anecdote. Looks like you will have to find Jaehaerys and discover the realities of that particular tale on your own.”

Sansa and her aunt, the Queen, the rejected Stark...shared similar cautious smiles. The curtain that separates them returns, leaving them in their rightful...comfortable places.

“Safe travels, your Grace.”

“Thank you, Lady Sansa.”

*****

“Do you truly need to leave now? The wedding is so soon. Couldn’t this wait until then?” Rhaenys could hear the fear in her voice. Her attempt was to have a lighthearted conversation with her mother, but when she saw her chest being packed by her maids fear clawed its way out of the restraints she placed on it.

Frankly the fear was born the moment her father told her that not only would her mother leave, but so would Robb and Visenya. Their departures had the making of the Gods having a cruel jape at her expense, as though the jest she barely survived before wasn’t enough. 

Would she lose her mother, her betrothed, and her sister? Rhaeneys is strong, but the thought of losing them...she knew it would undo her. She silently prayed for them to return to her. 

Rhaenys didn’t see her mother kneel before her, as her eyes were closed in prayer. Her mother’s hand on her as the other ran her long fingers through her hair, it disturbed Rhaenys mental mantra. Opening her eyes, all she saw was her mother’s understanding expression. 

“I know you are scared my fierce sundragon. This is a quick trip. I will be back before you know it. There is much for you to prepare for. You won’t even notice I am gone. I will leave Ashara with you...the next best thing, yes?”

Rhaenys forced a smile, and her mother was not fooled, if the deflated appearance was any indication. 

“I don’t understand why? Queen Lyanna, Robb, and Vissy are headed to the Stormlands while you, Lord Eddard, Viserys, and Daeron are headed to the Reach. What are you _not_ telling me?”

Her mother looked at her, a contemplative expression on her face. She took Rhaenys hand in hers as she rose to sit beside her. Never releasing her hand, her mother spoke quietly into her ear. 

“There have been some unfortunate developments that your father has been made aware of...developments that have potential to catastrophically impact the political relationship of the Stormlands, the Reach, and the Crown.”

Rhaenys turned to look in her mother’s eyes. Before her sits not the mother she has always known, no before her is the Queen...her Queen. Rhaenys senses she is not being asked to understand the words spoken in the context of mother to daughter. In this moment, Rhaenys is being asked to understand as a subject to the Crown. 

Turning away she takes a deep breath. There have been times in her life when her mother has asked her to follow her lead without question...it is rare, but the moments have occurred. It is not easy for Rhaenys to give up such trust, not even to the woman who she owed her life to...in so many ways that just birth. 

They sat in an uncomfortable silence until her mother squeezed her hand. 

“I know I am asking you to take a large leap of faith, Rhaenys. This isn’t me just asking and you trusting in me. I understand what I am doing...what I am asking you to do; the source of this comes from your father and we haven’t always had the best record with him.”

Rhaenys could see her mother’s gaze. While she can acknowledge that her parents’ marriage is better than one would expect considering their past, the ghosts of their early union always seem ready to remind either parent of their past folly in trusting the other. 

“Then why do it at all? If you decline to go does this pose a danger to us in this moment?”

Her mother looked her directly in the eye, “If this is not addressed before your wedding, then we run the risk of another war.”

Unprepared for such words, not when news of her father’s rule was generally spoken in positive terms. Perhaps not at the end of the Usurpers Rebellion, but he had built his reputation once again. She was under the impression her father’s reign had been illustrious for years now. The shock manifested itself in a gasp and a tightening grip on her mother’s hand. 

“The secrecy of the who is or will be the Crown Prince will be something we cannot contain any longer. News of your brothers' betrothals will become known shortly after your wedding. Some Houses will not be happy with such news.” 

The Queen tuck a thick piece of hair behind Rhaenys’s ear...a gesture that used to sooth her as a child. However, it wasn’t very effective in this moment. 

“With everyone gathered here, there are many opportunities for those who feel the stirring of discord to meet and discuss treason under the guise of friendly conversation or perhaps trade. My leaving...our leaving...it is meant to end such opportunity before it arises.”

Rhaenys eyes felt so wide on her face. The words of war and discord shook her to her core. Not again, she thought...not again. 

“Your father will have his own...meetings with the Hightowers, Mooton, and Arryns.”

Still in a drunken fog of disbelief, Rhaenys nodded. 

“He will tell you in short time that he expect you to be present for that meeting in addition to your Uncle Doran, along with Aegon and Jaehaerys.” 

Those words snapped Rhaenys out of her distress.

“He wants me present while he meets with those bannermen. Why?”

The older woman tilt her head, a soft encouraging smile on her face. It serves to loosen the knot currently residing within Rhaenys.

“I will leave the explanations to your father. Once he has shared the threat, then you will understand why I must go...why we all must go.”

“Why do I fear that I might lose one of you?” Rhaenys would not cry, but she couldn’t help but feel a sheen over her eyes. 

Cupping her face, her mother rested her forehead against Rhaenys. 

“You are scared because long ago that fear was real. This, my fierce sundragon, is not the same thing. We will travel safely and we will return as quickly as we can. I should be back within the moon. In all fairness, I will spend more time on a horse or in a carriage than anything else.”

Reaching to hold her mother’s hands as they held her face, Rhaenys nodded in cautious acceptance.

“You will be here for my wedding. You all will be here, yes?”

Even through her discomfort with the situation, her mother’s luminescent smile brought Rhaenys comfort...just as it had her whole entire life.

“We will all be here. You will wed. Trust in me...and if you still have fears, then just remember who your father is and what he is capable of. He may be trying to avoid war, Rhae, but he is not afraid to wage it. Should the host we visit with become unaccommodating, please know that your father will ensure that they understand the meaning of his House words. Just look at Tywin Lannister and his house.”

Rhaenys took her mother’s words to heart. She also knew her mother would never approve of Rhaenys’s future husband or her sister going anywhere that would bring them harm. Her mother would never leave her when she could miss the biggest milestone of Rhaenys’s life...her mother had been her witness for all of them. 

But if matters turned grey, Rhaenys had no doubt her father would rain _fire and blood_ on their enemies...and what they didn’t know is she would be there right beside him to lead the charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot was happening in this chapter...we also see some moves leading up towards the end. 
> 
> [1] He's just not that into you: This is my favorite line!!!
> 
> I will tell you now I finally finished Elia and Lyanna's conversation...FINALLY! I just need to let it sit and edit if need be. Its long...I am not sure if I should split to let the first part settle before posting the second...or giving it all to ya. Please share your preferences if you would. 
> 
> Due to the content in that chapter I will have to update my tags. It does get dark and there is discussion of character death...don't worry none of my current characters are dying...lol, but I think it's important to the story, sooooo....heads up there will be some tag changes. 
> 
> As always thanks for reading!


	11. Interlude IV: Inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyanna learns how one of her son's views his parents, the idea of marriage, and family.
> 
> Lyanna and Elia find themselves alone in the aftermath of Rhaegar's ire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just having fun with GRRM's characters. 
> 
> So some warnings, if you don't mind. 
> 
> 1\. Check the tags. I have updated them (major character and description of the manner in which they died.) 
> 
> I wasn't as descriptive as I know I can be with my writing, but the descriptions are there because without them we don't see how far down (or up for some people) Rhaegar had gone...and what the realms was like for those who survived. It was also a "throwing down of the gauntlet" of sorts by Elia to Lyanna. I also figure if you've read or watch GoT, then this is nothing close to that level. But proceed with caution.
> 
> 2\. This chapter comes from Lyanna's POV. I really struggled with how I would write this chapter, and once I had my notes and all your suggestions, I found myself writing in her voice. We have so much of Elia's POV's. We understand her motivations and where she stands, but many still don't get Lyanna. They are torn by her. Yes she made a colossal mistake as a young woman (I say young woman because I am seeing her from the context of that time and not our modern ones), there is no denying that, but she is more than that one point in her life. She has history of her own, a history Elia could never have...and that matters. The only one who can share that with the readers and with Elia, is Lyanna...because she lived through it all and still keeps living it with no escape.
> 
> 3\. This interlude will pretty much tell you the proposed endgame. There are some things that I won't share here, but will be revealed in chapter 12, that kinda alter the proposal just a bit. The chapters afterwards bring the story to a close in terms of how it all goes down. 
> 
> I apologize for the length. Now without further ado...here it is.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~

The balcony was silent, a much-needed reprieve from the intensity that weighted the chaotic emotions in her husband’s apartments. His ire and his rage regarding the content of the letter sent by her son and goodsister nearly brought the Keep down to its knees. Luckily for those outside this chamber, none are the wiser for he intentionally exposed his fury to very few.

Lord Connington, Lord Commander Dayne, and his Queens. Of the two of them Lyanna felt the worst, of that she was sure. The guilt that rested on her shoulders was strong enough to almost break her...almost. Perhaps by the end of this situation she will surely fold. A person can only withstand so much regret. 

Yes, Lyanna carried sorrow on what has befallen her goodsister...and by default her son. Though she had fought Rhaegar’s decision to marry Dany to Renly, she championed that they should be made to know each other well before marriage. Perhaps if they had kept to the way most marriages are decided then Renly would have been a stranger and therefore this revelation would hurt Dany less. 

Or at least that is what she tells herself. Her heart splintering for the daughter of her heart. 

Lyanna’s mind now drifts to her son. When he had recently visited she had sat in this chamber and encouraged her husband to agree to Aemon’s request to court Lady Margaery...to marry her and in doing so accept the duty of the Crown. She supported the idea even though she knew her son had growing interest in another. Aemon had assured her that allowing him to pursue Lady Margaery was the best course of action. 

He would do his _family duty_. Words that had sounded like an indictment of sorts. Duty...what most people of their stations do regardless of personal desires. Though she has done her duty as a queen, and she has done it well...considering her start; Lyanna would always have the label of one who had once forsaken her duty. Period.

Her mind goes back to a previous conversation.

“Are you sure you are willing to court and marry her, my son?”

“I am, Mother.”

“But what of Lady Myrcella? Contrary to what you might think, I still do keep notice of my sons and their...sights.”

He laughed softly; his head bowed for a moment before he looked at her.

“My older brothers have women they have chosen to marry. They are willing to step aside. Our family still owes a debt to the Tyrells. While I can admit to finding Lady Myrcella...fascinating, I do not think I am in love with her. In truth, I do not think I am built for such sensibilities.”

She remembers a crack formed on her own battered heart upon hearing his words... _“I do not think I am built for such sensibilities.”_ It moved her to touch him...reaching for his hand.

“Aemon we are all built for love. It’s just a matter of finding someone who is willing to build it with you.”

“That is surprising to hear coming from you.” He scoffed gently as he patted her hand before moving away.

Lyanna flinched. Not expecting such a reply from _this child._ “Why do you say that?”

“You and my father are one of the greatest love stories ever told. Mothers, maids, or septas whisper tales of your great love to their young daughters. To the world your love was designed in homage to destiny. I just find it odd that you talk about building love when yours came fully formed.”

Lyanna was hurt and stunned that her son...her child saw his parents that way. That he didn’t see that she and Rhaegar had to build what they had, for the Prince who ran away with a High Lord’s daughter...well that couple died in the shadows of the Tower of Joy. She and Rhaegar were no longer those people. The couple they are came to be because they fought to build a marriage from the rubble of their choices. 

How misunderstood they were...

“People see what they want to see, Aem. They choose to believe what they want to believe. Truth nor reality has very little space to flourish in such conditions, but I can concede what your father and I must have looked like to the great romantics of our time.” 

“Is it not? All my life you and father have always been...cohesive...together...a unit. Sure, you have disagreements. However, you have always managed to solve them. At your core you are securely tethered to one another. That is what I know.”

“I suppose that is an apt description. There is love there too. A love that had to grow to keep us so fortified. Contrary to what you might think, son, we have to work to keep ourselves united. Many years have passed and we nurtured it every year and it's only because of that cultivation that your father and I have weathered the recent storms.”

“Hmmm...Queen Elia and her children.”

Lyanna nodded, tilting her head away from her son’s observant gaze.

“Yes...and along with their reintroduction into our lives there are...debris flying in our orbit...that we must address. The Tyrell’s being one of them.”

“I am willing to take that on Mother. The Lady is easy on the eyes, I’ll grant you that. She’s clever. A bit of a gossip though I think she thinks she’s better at concealing that part of herself. The knowledge she gains from such insights could be helpful.”

“This also means your father could set your brothers aside to make you king. You have never ever desired that. I know you think you were being discreet but I am aware of how much to teased Jaehaerys about being the Crown Prince. You enjoy power and politics, my love, but you have never sought the power of a king.”

He chuckled softly under his breath. 

“And you say its I that sees too much.” He leaned over towards her. “I do enjoy the thrill of power and the game itself, but the King...his power is limited. Whether he wants to or not, the people and his bannermen do pose a block on his potential. The other players...if they play well...they have no limits. I’d say Tywin Lannister might have been the best player of his time...until he made a misstep that cost him everything.”

Lyanna froze at the name. No one mentioned the man...never. 

“That man, Aemon...he is not one you should look up to.”

“Why not? He played the game and he almost won. He told grandfather not to go to Duskendale, but old king didn’t listen. He set a siege that forced the Lord to threaten to kill the King. That was his goal. Had he succeeded grandfather would die and father would have become king; his rewarded would have been father taking on Lady Cersei as his wife.”

Lyanna could hear the respect in her son’s voice and it angered her. 

“But he didn’t succeed and your grandfather punished him for it...by taking Jaime and denying Tywin the marriage match.”

“True, but by the time father left Elia for you, grandfather had completely unraveled. The odds were in Tywin’s favor. He held his allegiances close to his chest, and when he thought father had fallen...as the chances were that he should have...he tried to take the Keep for Robert Baratheon...though word around says Uncle Ned could have asked for the throne and the realm would have granted him it.” 

“That man tried to kill your stepmother and sibling.” Lyanna could not keep her ire inside any longer. “We thought he had!”

He looked at her, a confused expression on her face. Speaking to her like a slow-witted child.

“Mother, they were prime for the taking. Tywin saw it. He took his opportunity to take a major piece off the game board.”

Too furious to say anything else, all she could ask was, “And that brings you pride, son? This is what you wish to emulate as a man, the behaviors of the one who tried to kill your kin.”

Aemon’s eyes took on that cool gleam his father was known for. How this son who looked so much like a Stark was truly a Targaryen through and through. Though mothers should not have favorites, of the three, he was hers. She sees her son, and even through her dislike of his perspectives she still loves him best. What does that say about her?

“Pride that they could have died...no. Appreciation for the tactics...yes. Why are you so angry at me? I didn’t leave _them_ in a vulnerable untenable situation. You can look to another Targaryen male for that error. Should you need further direction in identifying him, he was I believe on his way to you when this happened.”

“Aemon!” Outrage and hurt she could not keep her voice calm.

“What! Its true. Father made a mistake. A costly one...and had Tywin waited just a little bit longer then it would have been his grandson that was would have been heir to the Iron Throne...if not as a Targaryen, then as a Baratheon, or a Stark.”

Lyanna was chilled by the callous deconstruction of one of the most horrific moments of her life...of her husband’s life. She pushed aside her own raging emotions to see the heart of her son’s words, she could not fault him for his cold-hearted analysis. 

Rhaegar had left his first family vulnerable. Every predator hunts the easiest prey...and that is what Elia and the children were. The situation was dire for Rhaegar so Tywin took his chance, but if things had gone differently, then Tywin would have won in some capacity. 

“What you hear Mother is pride, but what I am trying to tell you is that I can appreciate the desire to put one’s family legacy first. That for me means ensuring their safety. I never want to be taken advantage of in the way father had been. He knew Tywin...even loved him in a fashion...but it meant nothing in the end. Not for Tywin. Not for Father...what a brutal way to learn that lesson.”

Lyanna found herself lost in her memories of Tywin and her husband’s end...

“So, you are right Mother, I never wanted to be king. I hope Father decides on one of my brothers. If we have a vote, which I know we don’t, I would throw Aegon into the ring. With the right Hand, we would be a good king.”

Surprised by her son’s declaration she sought his reasoning, though she had agreed that Aegon’s temperament seemed better suited to the role. 

“Why Aegon and not Jae? Jae’s been raised to be King of this realm...even though Aegon received education on how to rule in Dorne.”

“The crown is heavy on Father. Aegon has broader shoulders...with his ability to redirect and use humor. There is a dragon under all that levity...a cautious one, but wily when need be, I think. Jae...I love my brother but he is already weighted down with his past title of Crown Prince. He is more wolf than dragon. He wants to lead his small pack, unlike Aegon who will protect everything that resides within in a dragon’s hoard. From a man who embraces both sides...my gold coins are on the dragon.”

“How Tywin-esque of you, son.”

Aemon laughed loudly, his hand on his waist. 

“Perhaps or this is me telling you that Aegon would be the best choice as King to protect this family in the long run. Just as Tywin would have chosen.”

A disturbance beside her broke Lyanna away from her recollection, turning to see her sister-wife coming to stand beside her; a pitcher and two cups in hand. Lyanna nodded in agreement to the drink, thanking the woman as she passed her a goblet of Riverland cherry wine. 

Both women sat on two large chairs that overlooked the Bay. The sat in silence...one daresay comfortable. In the almost two years they have been in each other’s presence these silences have become less tense and awkward. Conversations that do arise in these moments have been of a superficial nature. In the face of Rhaegar’s current mood, Lyanna wondered if she and Elia would stay their course or diverge. 

Elia’s gentle voice wavered as she spoke into the night. 

“I’ve never seen him like that. It was...” her voice broke. Lyanna said nothing; giving the woman time to collect her thoughts. Watching as the fingers of Elia’s right hand touched her lips. “...almost like seeing Aerys, but not quite.”

Lyanna had never met the Mad King, but in an effort to help Lyanna understand Rhaegar in those early days back at Kings Landing, Queen Rhaella told her much about her goodfather. She can see where Elia would make the comparison. It was one she made and she was working from secondhand experience. 

“We have fought. Gods how we have fought since he found us. Even in his ire and fury, he never became this...”

“Hmmm...I would hope not. His anger with you I imagine is more about his anger with himself and the choice he left you with. The passion in his anger comes from his love of you.”

“How do you figure that? Does this anger not come from his love of Daenerys?” Elia’s gaze smoldered against the night sky. “Does he discuss the particulars of our marriage with you?”

“I figure because when he and I fight, I think his ire comes from the same place. While he loves Dany...like a daughter...this anger is one of betrayal. I do not know how to explain it. What he looks like when he his hurt and betrayed is very different from when he is angry and betrayed.” Sighing her weariness of the day away. 

“And to answer your latter question, no he doesn’t discuss with me the particulars of your marriage. No more than I imagine he discusses mine.”

Elia made a soft sound of assent and leaned back into the chair. “I had betrayed him...more than once and I still never saw this side of him.”

Lyanna wasn’t sure how to address that. In all honesty she didn’t think it was her place to. Was her decision to stay quiet; letting them think she and the children had perished a betrayal...yes, but hadn’t Rhaegar betrayed her first...yes. Didn’t circumstance matter? As of this second betrayal of which Elia’s speaks she could not fathom.

“I would say that in your situation Rhaegar holds much accountability for how matter deteriorated between you.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Elia lower her head slightly. She took a long sip of her drink before she continued on uttering words that were long overdue. 

“I know I played my part, and for that I am sorry. I was young, selfish, and stupid...I walked with the kind of stupidity that only youth can claim. I imagine my apology means little considering how you were directly impacted by my actions. I know I would find little comfort or sincerity in it should I had been you. The fact remains I am genuinely sorry.”

Expecting to receive a sharpened spear to her heart in the form of a well aimed set of words, Lyanna braced herself. 

“How did it start?”

Surprised by the question, Lyanna answered thinking Elia had already known, but perhaps she wanted to hear it from her lips. If this is what Elia needed then who was she to deny her...especially after giving her an apology. Had circumstances been reversed would she expect Elia to deny her knowledge...to deny her some sort of recompense. 

Lyanna took a long drink and spoke the words she hadn’t said in a long time. 

“After Harrenhal, Rhaegar wrote me to wish me well in my marriage to Robert. I was impertinent. I knew it, but I thought with him so far away I could say what it thought with little repercussion. I told him how I truly felt about the match. How the duty grated against me.”

“You sounded much like most women who married for such reasons.”

“Did you feel that way about Rhaegar?”

Elia had been silent, her head tilted in thought. “No not a grating feeling, but the awareness that I was _not a choice he had made_ chaffed nonetheless.”

Lyanna sighed. 

“He wrote to me about finding love in duty. That perhaps I could have found that with Robert. He did love you then. I knew it. I was not blind to it.”

“Then why did you go with him.” Elia’s voice was quiet, but Lyanna could hear the hurt, loss, and confusion which were remnants of the young wife Elia once was. That’s who was seated beside her...the young Elia...not the older woman Lyanna has grown to know.

Lyanna felt tears of shame crest in her eyes. “I had fallen in love with the man in the letters. When he spoke of the prophecy, I thought like him that I too was that missing piece. A sign that we were ordained to come together.”

“He already had a family, Lyanna.” Hurt...all she heard was the wound tearing once again.

“I know. But when you believe in the righteousness of prophecy and destiny it makes for a wonderful tonic of self-justification. Trust me Sister, of that I can assure you.”

Lyanna filled her cup once again, then replenished Elia’s drink when she saw the glass was empty. Sitting back, she rest her head on the back of the seat, eyes closed.

“Rhaegar and I took turns sipping from that flask; with its combined elixirs of justification, exceptionalism, and blamelessness. We supped on it until we had to shake the flask to get every last drop. Then reality set in, and the fabrications we told ourselves could not withstand the pressures of the repercussions for our acts. The enormity of it all...the devastation. In short time the potion no longer worked like it used to.”

Keeping her head on the rest, she turned to look at Elia who was watching her intently. 

“The concoction now only served to remind us that he and I were the architects of all which had befallen the people we had loved and the innocent people of the realm. Such awareness nearly destroyed us. I imagine you would have considered that justice if it had. However, Rhaegar was committed to atoning for what he could and he asked me to do the same. Thought I must admit it would have been easier to lose myself. Let it all in and fall into oblivion.”

Elia exhalation was deep, as though she were trying to cleanse herself. Lyanna understood, but found there was very little one could do to expel feelings that kill a bit of your soul. 

“I loved Rhaegar...I found that youthful abandon kind of love with him, even if he was always so serious. I spent so many years trying to understand how I could have misread him so poorly.” Elia’s voice broke, the tears in her voice undeniable.

Lyanna turned away as her own tears spilled silently down her face. All that could be heard were the gentle sobs from Elia. 

“I don’t want much of anything from you Lyanna. My current feelings for Rhaegar make it almost impossible for me to see you as anything other than a reminder of my own stupidity and blindness in loving him; rubbing against the grain is the combination of his humiliation of me and our vows. ”

Lyanna remained silent, for what could she say?

“But I chose to return, didn’t I. I did so for my children and now their lives are to be lived here...within this realm and forever tied to their father. I could go and leave them, and perhaps I will at some point. However, that point is not now. Life here...it is not easy for me, and I cannot continue as I am. We cannot continue as we are.”

Lyanna knew the moment Elia stepped off of the ship in Dragonstone that the other woman was there to stay. These past years they have presented a united front before the Court; Rhaegar would accept nothing less and they have built an agreement of sorts...taking the role of the Queen and splitting it as equitably that they could between them. 

Outside of their responsibilities they remained in separate corners; this upcoming nuptial notwithstanding, however Lyanna just could not find it within herself to disagree with Elia. They couldn’t continue as they were. She was tired so tired of always being on guard with this woman, and she imagined her husband’s other wife felt an exhaustion of her own. 

“It would be a lie to say that I do not place fault at your feet for the past, Lyanna. Yes, you were young but at fifteen you were old enough to know what you were doing was inappropriate. While you and our husband were consuming your false creations. I was here...a prisoner in my home. Pregnant with two small children...one still a babe. Every day I lived in fear of dying at the hands of the Mad King. I had to ponder the thought of who would take care of my children should he kill me...would he take Aegon and kill Rhaenys for her Dornish looks.”

Elia rubbed her face awashed with tears. 

“While you found safety in my homeland and were protected by three knights of the Kingsguard...one of them a man I once called friend. I was alone, except for one young and foolishly brave knight.” 

Elia turned away, her sobs hard and loud...ugly and harsh. Lyanna was helpless not to feel shattered by the sounds. Her own guilt whispering in her ears... _”Look at what you help to do, Lyanna?”_

“No one spared my feelings. They all talked of my husband running away with a younger wife. Running away for this great love. Meanwhile he says he had loved me and he didn’t see it...or rather he didn’t’ see it until it was too late.”

Lyanna eyed the Dornish Queen as her sobs came to an occasional sniff. She too knows the feeling of the sharp tongues of Court that made her bleed. Small cutting attacks from Lords and Ladies that masquerade as evolved people...but are truly vicious animals. 

“So, between thoughts of death by Aerys or by birthing, the welfare of my children, the torture of watching Aerys kill guised as righteous indignation, I had become a hostage to make my family...to make my homeland come to heel at the feet of a monster...because of his son’s actions. So many people lost their lives, wives lost husbands, a generation of children raised without fathers...my own uncle. He loved me with such fierceness. I have yet to feel the likes of it again...for I never will because he is gone.”

The Northern Queen could feel her own heart aching as Elia spoke of her truth as she saw it, of her people...of her uncle. Lyanna knew that Ser Lewyn Martell died trying to save Rhaegar at the Battle at the Trident. Lyanna was too slow to stop the release of a wet sob of her own. 

“I had the compounded public humiliation of it all. If it wasn’t the occasional courtier, it was Aerys. And no one...nobody could help me. I was isolated and alone...all because of my husband and his desire to have another lover. No worse than that...he wanted another wife.”

Lyanna sat sorrowful in quiet deference. Her lower lip quivered as she tried to quell her tears. She does not want to express them in front of Elia, but she is to upset not to. 

Years of wondering what Elia had felt plagued her mind. She made many guesses, some influenced by her own loss. She needed her suppositions to help her find peace with her...their past...an effort she needed most ardently for the denial of such conjectures would have driven her mad with guilt in the long run. 

Under the darkness of the sky and the shadow of Storm’s End looming near, Lyanna realizes once again that people have limitations on understanding another’s pain. Especially when the acts that brought upon the hurt goes beyond human understanding. In those moments we can’t truly understand unless we experience it themselves. 

Elia’s experience was so much worse than Lyanna had imagined...for at this point they have only spoken of matters before the attempt to take Kings Landing. Gods only know what she felt afterwards. Not sure she could take any more of this on the heels of the letter and Rhaegar’s reaction. Even she had limitations before she can break...and right now she cannot break. 

“It was more than just me. I do not think I truly mattered. I think any Northern woman would have done...it was all about the child. But the other woman's existence had to occur nonetheless...and unfortunately for both of us that woman was me.” 

Elia shook her head as she turned back to Lyanna. 

“I think you are right about that, Queen Lyanna.”

He sat in the quiet silence once again. The sounds of the sea wall breaking the will of the sea to reach land. 

“You should know that though you bear your fair portion of the blame, especially where your own family is concerned, I do recognize that Rhaegar has more accountability for all that has occurred...not only to me...our children...and my family, but to your family, and to the realm.”

Elia took a long pull from her cup. The sat in the stillness of the late night. 

“I’m not blind to what your life must have been like when you returned to Kings Landing. I’m sure you had the whisper and the japes reminding you of your actions.”

Lya’s eyes widened in disbelief. Where did this come from?

Elia must have read her reaction in the darkness. 

“Rhaella and I spoke at great length over the years...since my return. I know that you and she do not share the warmest of relationships...”

“No. It is not as what you and she have.” Surprise evident in her tone.

“True, but she does respect what you have been able to achieve here...considering the start. She was very clear on what Court life was like for you. I learned a bit about how your marriage was like...or rather how it was perceived by others. You seemed to make it work in the end. That I must admit is a bit of a bitter pill to swallow...though that is not for you to carry, but for Rhaegar.”

“They were brutal...the Court.” Lya’s mind returned to those early days. Her voice a soft whisper as she was transported to the past. 

“I was a blind pup compared to the seasoned players here. They were always so careful of how and what they said in front of Rhaegar. They kept up the appearance of blamelessness for his part...but never for me...at least not when we were out of his sight. But then he was King...and then there were the punishments which were doled out in the aftermath. People treaded carefully.”

Elia’s voice rang hard. “Still he should have known better. He should have done better.”

In all the years since she walked away from her old life and ran head on into his, this is the first time she had ever heard anyone explicitly tell her that Rhaegar was more at fault than she. She knew there were different degrees of fault, however she had been told countless times that she bared the bulk of it. To hear Elia, the wronged party say otherwise...Lyanna is not sure how to respond to that?

Lyanna has lived the majority of her life being reminded that she was the sole reason the realm went to war, as though her husband had no agency in the matter. The only people who remind Rhaegar of his actions are his mother and brother, and that she know was always done when necessary and always in private...never in front of her.

Finding she could not stop her defense of him, as it was automatic for her after so many years. 

“He has done better. It is not right that all that befell had to happen for him to remember his place...his duty...but he did remember and he has been a just king.”

“You know you don’t have to defend Rhaegar to me. It is enough that we must work together to always be seen as a united front. We endorse him to those who sniff to closely at possible weaknesses amongst us. We don’t need to preserve a lie between us Lyanna?”

Lyanna took another sip of wine, her brows drawn in consideration. 

“I can agree to that. For so many years the only person I could truly share my counter-opinions regarding Rhaegar have been with Rhaegar himself...though Rhaella was helpful when I truly needed another voice of reason. If only to challenge my own perceptions or to confirm them.”

Elia refilled her goblet, her expression asking if Lyanna needed one as well. Sending her sister-wife an exhausted, yet sad smile, Lya extended her cup.

“I think this accord need to extend beyond just Rhaegar.”

Reading Elia’s expression, Lyanna understood the heart of what she was trying to say. 

“The matter of succession...our children have been very quiet on the matter. Well aside from our sons telling Rhaegar where they stand. They seem to have a pact of their own, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, they do. We have not pressured them. I think whatever genuine fondness they have towards each other comes from Rhaegar. His expectation that they spend time with each other on Dragonstone. I think his decision to allow Daeron to go with Rhaenys and Visenya to Dragonshield helped to solidify that bond. My daughters do speak fondly of him. They enjoy his presence...much like they enjoy Aegon’s.”

Lyanna smiled at that. She thought of her youngest son. He always seemed to be with Visenya...as though they had never been raised apart.

“Daeron is prickly. Always has been, but he does appear to be very fond of your daughters...and Aegon. Especially when he can best him in sparring and that seems to be rare.”

A chuckle floated on the air. Elia turned to her. 

“Aegon does like Daeron...and Jaehaerys. Truth be told, I think Aegon and Jae are closer than one might think.”

“Hmmm...so you have discovered their late nights and escapes to the private cove.” Lyanna surmised.

“Yes. They do think they are very discreet, but then again I know that when my son wants to conceal something he is very good at it. This feels different. It feels more like he’s trying to...”Elia shook her head as though she was searching for the right word.

“Protect it...” Lyanna guessed...for she felt similarly regarding her own son’s behaviors surrounding his older brother.

Turning back to Lyanna, Elia expelled a breathless, “...yes.”

“I concur. They are part of a small fraternity of sorts. Heirs to a King. Not many can understand what that means.”

“I must admit your Aemon gives me pause. Please don’t think it is anything he has done, considering the upheavals our reintroduction brought to his life. I am not selfish to think that Rhaegar requesting our return and our assent to that appeal didn’t come without ramifications for you and your children.”

Elia went to the sideboard and brought a small tray of fruits, nuts, and cheeses; placing it on the table between them. Each reaching for a small nibble. 

“I could care less on how it directly affected _you_ , but I tried to mitigate the discord my children may have felt for their half-siblings. I encouraged them to not hold their parents as a reason for not making an effort to know them...and assess them on their own merits. Your Aemon is a difficult young man to reach. They seem to trust Jae and Daemon’s regard for him well enough to hold their own opinions, but as a mother...he scares me.”

Lyanna eyes narrowed as she tried to take in Elia’s countenance in the darkness. How much did she say? If they are to work together to keep their family from destruction could what she says be misunderstood. Resulting in actions against her son. Lyanna settled in silence as she thought of how to respond. 

“My son...is very loyal to me, to his father, to his brothers, and to members of this House. He typically advocates on the side of legacy over person...unless he is betrayed. Then like Rhaegar he can be quite ruthless. Ame does not hate you or your children. He’s content with the lot he has, but should his half-siblings require his brand of advocacy then I have no doubt he will answer their call...”

Elia nodded.

“...and may the Gods have mercy on those who crossed them.” Her words trailed into stillness. 

Watching a slender olive-colored hand searching for an almond in the moonlight, Lyanna turns to look back at the closed doors to Rhaegar’s bedroom and wonders about the man. The biting crunch of Elia’s snack draws her attention. She sips her own drink.

“Might I ask what happened when you returned from Dorne? I know about Rhaegar’s discover of our chambers and our _‘deaths’_. I know Lord Tywin stormed the Keep, but when all was set and done we couldn’t learn about what happened to Lord Tywin. All we could discover was that House Lannister was gone.”

Lyanna rose to get another vessel of wine, adding more to the almost empty goblets between them. 

“Since my return, I have asked Rhaegar, Rhaella, Viserys...I even lowered myself to ask Jon Connington and Ser Arthur. Yet I get the same response. He was punished. He received the King’s Justice. It is done and there is no need to relive the unpleasantness of it all. Will you tell me the same?”

Elia’s eyes more golden than brown and luminescent by moonlight. Though her voice was temperate, her expression probing; Lyanna could see the challenge. The woman wanted an answer, and would Lyanna honor this new burgeoning treaty between them.

Lyanna knew she would, for if they were to council Rhaegar then Lyanna needed Elia to know _that of which she did not discern_. A part of Lya, that is moved by regret, understands why her husband demands discretion in regards to the information Elia is privy to regarding that time in their lives. However, the Queen in her cannot allow herself the comfort of wrapping herself in regret...not unless she wants to sit back and allow it to compound. 

“You know about Stannis and my brother...his sons...”

Elia dipped her head in understanding. “Yes, but I want to know of Tywin and of anyone that perhaps I should know of but don’t know to ask.”

Lya took a sip of her drink, noting the change from Riverland cherry to a Westerlands plum wine. She wet her tongue to her lips before continuing.

“There were four men who were sentenced to death. Amory Lorch, Ser Gregor Clegane, Grandmaester Pycelle, and Lord Tywin Lannister.”

“Aside from Tywin, why those other three?”

“Lorch and Clegane were discovered to be the ones who were sent to kill you and the children. The few servants and soldiers that testified at the trail told the Court they had seen both men destroying your chambers in search of you and your babes. The bodies they had found were so unrecognizable. There coloring was the only thing they had to identify you and them.”

Elia lowered her head. “I discovered later that the children found where dying and sold by their mothers. A young Dornish prostitute it seemed was at deaths door. She was asked if she would make her life worth something to save her Princess...and went with them. Though I did not know it and nor did I have a conscious choice in it; I carry their deaths with me...I carry them with so much shame and remorse.” 

After such an admittance, Lya filled Elia cup. She watched as she drank the whole cup rapidly. 

Lyanna thought about what occurred next. 

“Once they were found guilty, Rhaegar gave them the chance for leniency. A better death, if you will, if they told the Court who let them into the Keep and who directed them to murder you.”

Elia’s eyes never left Lya’s face. Lya was back in that time now. She could see the throne room in her mind’s eye. Rhaegar seated on the dais, the men in the prisoner’s box, the throngs of noble spectators. 

“It was Lorch who admitted to Grandmaester Pycelle letting them in and Lord Tywin for issuing the demand to kill you.”

“What happened to Loch and Clegane?”

“Lorch was beheaded, but Clegane refused to speak against the Grandmaester or Tywin. So, he suffered a different kind of death.”

Lyanna didn’t know how to continue. Her mind didn’t want to relive any of this. To experience it once was more than enough. She didn’t know she had closed her eyes and shaking her head, until she felt Elia’s soft hand on hers. 

Elia’s eyes encouraged her to continue. Lyanna didn’t know how to tell this woman that their husband had a side to him that was more than just dangerous. He could be coldblooded and merciless. Clearing her throat, she began.

“You know how much Rhaegar liked to read about histories of the world, not just Valyrian. Many of those books contain much information on how to punish people in the most severity of ways.”

Elia bobbed her head, her eyes seeking more information.

“So, protocols be damned he gave those men the deaths he thought they deserved and dared the realm to challenge him. I think between the jubilation of his winning combined with the losses of the Crown; it caused everyone to stand down. This kingdom was in shock, we all were. If it had been any other time, Elia...well one, he wouldn’t by his nature have been that extreme and, two the kingdom would not have stood for it.” 

It always took Lyanna’s breath away when she thought about what life had been like then. A far cry from the realm of today.

“Rhaegar decided since Clegane had raped the woman he thought to be you, he would punish him by impalement. He had a device created by the royal smithy. Clegane was chained and made to sit on the tip of the device...it had these rungs that were not evenly spaced making it almost impossible for the man to hold his own bulk. His own weight impaling him slowly until he was too weak to hold himself up. Eventually he just gave up and died...skewered on this device.” [1]

Lyanna watched as something dark bloomed behind Elia’s eyes.

“He had both the men’s bone cleaned. He had a crude sketch of the devices used etched into seven large bones of each man, and by rider he sent a set bones to each Lord Paramount and Warden still remaining.”

Elia stood sighing into the night sky, her head looking up to the sky. Lyanna took a bite of a slice of apple in hopes that she could erase the taste of sawdust from her mouth. 

“Pyclle?”

Lya stood up as well, turning to rest her backside against the balcony wall, head turn to address Elia.

“He was discovered to be the one to let Tywin in, so, he was hung, strung, and dismembered. After the executioner hung Pycelle, he gave our husband the signal to gut him and Rhaegar did the disembowelment himself. Afterwards Rhaegar demanded that Pycelle was to be cut into 7 pieces; one part placed at each of the seven gates of Kings Landing.”

Elia had not said anything and Lya wondered if she should continue. Most women...most people would have shared their disgust and outrage, but Elia remains stirred but resolved...Lya wonders what that might mean?

“The Citadel? I am sure they fought against this. While I disliked Pycelle, and after this I surely hate him, he was granted protection of sorts as a Grandmaester. What was the fall out of such action?”

Lya considered Elia’s words. “As I said before, the world was in a bit of a shock. There was nothing the Citadel could do. Pycelle admitted that Tywin had promised him wealth and power for his contribution to the Lannister cause. He knew the gates were closed by order of the King and he still let the Lannisters through. There is a certain level of trust a King should have towards his maester. Pycelle’s acts were treasonous. The Citadel washed their hands of it. They let Rhaegar have his pound of flesh.”

Elia seemed lost in her own thoughts. They remained physically close but both inside their own heads. Neither saying much to the other.

“I am afraid to ask what happened to Tywin.”

Lyanna scoffed, she lets her head fall back. “As you should be?” Lyanna rubs her face and shakes off the rest of her heaviness for this is the worst of them all in her opinion. She can’t remain still for this, not if she really wants to tell Elia the truth. Lya slowly begins to pace in front of Elia.

“Tywin was convicted of high treason. His brother Kevan was convicted of a lesser charge of treason, and was given the choice; Keep House Lannister but accept castration for you, your sons, and any Lannister male that would expect to ascend as Lord. Needless to say, they relinquished their House. Some serve as low vassals to the Marbrands.”

“The Westerlands revere the Lannisters. They would have revolted at such a decree.” The Dornish woman countered.

“They almost had. The region was fractured. One side hated what the Lannisters had done and wanted no association with their House for fear of being associate with their deceit. The other side, well they chose to ignore the treason, I suppose. In the end, people were persuaded to either give up the Lannisters or face war.”

Lyanna hadn’t noticed she was wringing her hands like a nervous girl...like she used to do back then. The brash young woman she once was had to fall behind an iron curtain in order to survive. Insecure behaviors she never possessed before made themselves readily apparent. This particular tick was one that exasperated Queen Rhaella mightily. Her mind falling back on her _queenship lectures_ from her goodmother. _“A good Queen does not reveal her nerves under any circumstances, Lyanna...”_ Lya made herself reach for a drink instead.

“Even though people were tired, Elia, once word was spread about your death and how it all came to be...Houses were ready to fight one more time. Not for Rhaegar, no...but for your children...for Aegon and Rhaenys. It was such a surreal time. What once passed as normal practice ceased to exist.”

“And Tywin...”

Standing before Elia, a hand’s breath a part; she told the woman all about Tywin Lannister demise.

“Tywin was personal for Rhaegar. He had high esteem for him and a part of Rhaegar loved him. He never foresaw Tywin’s betrayal. His punishment didn’t grant him a quick death, Elia, though his station entitled him to it. Rhaegar would not yield. He decreed his judgment and saw to it himself.”

“Rhaegar had him tied against a large wooden wheel. [2] He told the common folk to let their anger out on the man who had killed his Queen, the Crown Prince, and the Princess. The people came with sticks, clubs, rocks, and slabs of stone. They broke the man. I do not think there wasn’t a part of him that was fracture, but our husband would not allow him his death just yet.”

Lyanna noticed the rapid rising of Elia’s chest. The only sign of the woman’s agitation. 

“He had a dying tree hallowed out in the Kingswood. A tree that faced the sun most of the day. The space was large enough for Tywin to sit in. The man’s bones were so damaged, gashes, and cut. He coughed blood constantly, but he does not die. Rhaegar ensure it. Every day he had Tywin fed milk and honey...at times even forced. He was covered in it. It attracted all types of vermin. Some even tore off pieced of him to eat. I remember that clearly.” [3]

“He made you go?” Aghast, Elia flinched. 

Knowing the truth of this moment highlighted enough of Rhaegar’s perturbing behavior, she didn’t want to add to it with misunderstandings.

“No. A few times I snuck out on my own. He had the three Kingsguard guard Tywin: Hightower, Dayne, and Whent. Their job was to stop any sympathetic fool from bringing Tywin’s fate to an end. Every day Rhaegar went to see him and when he returned it felt like one more piece of him had gone. He left the man to die a horrible death. Between the insects and rats, the feces we was made to resting in, paired with the sunlight...it bred a surge of maggots. They slowly made their way inside his body, burrowing under his wounds, and eventually bringing him death.”

Elia’s skin became ashen as Lya spoke; her eyes wide. The woman slowly slid down to the ground, and Lyanna couldn’t help but to follow. 

“Rhaegar told me once Tywin passed, that he chose that manner of death because he wanted Tywin to sit in the mess of his own making. He wanted that man to watch how his own treachery brought him low. He told Tywin every day that this moment was made by his own ruthless desire...and now that desire was eating him alive. He said there was something purgative about watching a man who made terrible choices against others for selfish gain live long enough to watch his greed consume him.”

The Dornish woman’s eyes were dry but shadowed once again. 

“I think he was speaking more about himself.”

“I think so too. He still has their skulls you know. Each one etched with the manner of their deaths. He keeps those in a private vault. All to ensure that he is never to forget what thoughtlessness cost him and the price of betrayal.” 

Lyanna tried to clear her head with a quick shake of her head. 

“After that he changed. He was no longer the Prince I knew. That man was forever gone, but he became the king who cut spending on the Crown, lower taxes in and effort for each region to repair itself. He started subsidies...paying forward in order to boost the economy. The poor were not forgotten. Rhaegar continued to fund your meal program at the Sept, the orphanages and apprentice programs...It took ten years or so before he...we...were stable and loved. When I say loved, I mean Rhaegar and our sons. I have been merely tolerated. I have accepted my lot a long time ago. These last fourteen years have been a profitable blessing.”

Elia’s eyes saw more than Lyanna had wanted to reveal.

“You played your part. The realm is what it is today because of your hand in it. It pains me to admit, but I made my choice when I stayed away. You have been their Queen.”

Lyanna felt her eyes burn, but she did not want to seem weak before his woman, so she turned her head. The warm hand on her knee briskly patted before moving away. 

“Well now they have two Queens and you have been a boost of morale for the people. That is something I could never be. I have learned to accept that lot. So, what do you think of Rhaegar now?”

Elia took a deep breath before she rested her head on her bent knees. Her sigh pierced Lyanna heart. She understood the conflict better than the Dornish woman could ever know. 

“I wonder if my children and I should have stayed dead. We got too comfortable in Dorne and perhaps we should have gone to Essos. Sadly, I miscalculated and that path is no longer an option for any of us. As for Rhaegar, I think he is what I always knew he could be. He’s a good king. I hate that the _our deaths_ were a catalyst for that...that he had to sink so low to find himself when easier paths were right before him. He tries to be a good man. I think he battles demons. He does have a dark depth to him that I find hard to understand...a depth he hides from me. Now I can see why.”

Moving to sit beside Elia, Lyanna reaches over to grab the wine. Taking a sip, she considers the woman’s words. 

“Aside from that first year Elia, he had always kept it contained and hidden from me and our sons. I fear though that this letter will resurrect that Rhaegar.” Lya’s whispered loud enough for only Elia to hear. “I want the Tyrells to pay for their betrayals, but I am not willing to throw the realm into chaos to do it.”

Elia’s eyes burn the side of her face. She is surprised to find her glass taken from her, and ever more astonished to find the Dornish woman taking a drink from it. 

Looking back at Lyanna, Elia sends her a considering look. 

“Rhaegar can still honor the pledge and make Aemon a king even if the Tyrells don’t deserve it for their complicity in the deception, but if you are willing to play this game together I might have a solution that works for all of us...without sacrificing the innocent. You might have to martyr a son but might be able to stop this before it becomes something we can’t contain.”

“Martyr how?”

Elia wet her lips. “What do you know of Lady Elia Dayne?”

“I know Aegon loves her and wants to marry her. She is believed to be a true bastard Princess of Dorne.”

“You are right on two counts. Aegon does love her and wants to marry her, but she is not my brother’s bastard...though she is a niece of my choosing. Elia is Ned’s daughter, but if you didn’t notice and she has your eyes, perhaps the rest of the realm can remain fooled as well.”

Lyanna sat stunned by the news. How had she not noticed? But in that moment she remembered her own words to her son, _“People see what they want to see, Aem. They choose to believe what they want to believe. Truth nor reality has very little space to flourish in such conditions...”_

Oh, Gods her brother...does he know...can she keep this from him. She has a niece...one she made a bastard for after their last conversation she knows her brother would have married Ashara. Oh Gods...his name escapes her lips. “Eddard...” 

“He knows...recent news I assure you, but he is willing to stand aside. Rhaegar could argue that he must restore good-faith with Dorne. And since the Court already gossips that she is a Princess, though a bastard one..." 

“That would keep Jae or Aem from inheriting the Crown, if Aegon is allowed to marry Lady Elia as a form of restitution.” 

“Right. Jae has his plans with Sansa. Aemon could marry Margaery; honoring the alliance...” Elia tilted her head, bracing for Lyanna’s reaction evident on her face. 

“The martyred son. He’d be a good one.” Lyanna laughs to herself thinking of her conversation with her son. 

“The Reach could still revolt...,” Elia began. 

“Not unless Rhaegar grants Visenya her wish to marry Ser Humfrey.” Lyanna posited. 

“You know about that?” 

“Yes. We broke fast with each other one morning; she had mentioned it to me then. It was on her agenda to speak with Rhaegar. She said it was providence. I tried to steer her away from the word, I assure you.” 

Lyanna really did try to gently admonish the young woman from using such wording around her father, but in truth she does think her advice fell on deaf ears. 

Elia’s body shook with quiet laughter. “That is my daughter. You had the pleasure of seeing her less than endearing aspect of her father’s personality.” 

Lyanna smiled to herself at the thought. Her smile disappeared as she speculated on how to mitigate the Reach’s power. 

In a very deliberate tone, Lyanna continued. 

“The Hightower’s are an economic powerhouse of the Reach, there is still much bad blood between them and the Tyrell’s even though Mace Tyrell’s wife is a Hightower. Were they also tied to the throne by marriage and enmity or war ensued, then the Reach would be torn? Both Houses married to the Crown. If one fight against the Crown they swore a marriage oath to, then the other stand’s in support of us along with receiving the backing of the King. If you were a lower House...who would you place your coin on?” 

“So instead of Visenya marrying into the Riverlands or The Eyrie, she marries into the Reach.” The words echoed slowly as if Elia was tasting the words to decide if they were palatable. 

“The Riverland are allied with the Starks so that is helpful, however Daeron is very fond of Lord Mooton’s daughter. With the loss of his son’s over the last few years, she is his heir. A major coup for such a House in the Riverlands.” Lya supplied. 

Elia stood and paced as she considered Lyanna’s words. 

“We have the North tied by Rhaenys, Viserys commands the Westerlands, Daenerys reins in her husband and in turn holds the Stormlands, Daeron bridges the Riverlands, with Aemon and Visenya holding the Reach at a draw. Meanwhile, Aegon restores the realms political relationship with Dorne." 

Lya rose to sit on the plush chair, the stone ground settling a coldness into her bones. She wrapped her arms around herself as she reflected upon Elia’s comment. “That only leave the Vale and the Iron Islands, though after their last rebellion they bother us very little." 

Elia paused before turning to look at Lyanna, a cautioned expression on her face. 

“What about offering a Royce on the small council...say, the Hand of the King? They are a distinguished family in their own right. They are loyal to the Lord of the Eyrie, but the family themselves think highly of Ned...and his family. The Arryn’s and the Eyrie after the Rebellion were considered a disgrace by though who fought for Rhaegar. To have a Valemen in such a post...well, it would be seen as an achievement for them, a bit of grace from Rhaegar, and it would be the closest we could tie them to the Crown without marriage.” 

All the years of Court life could not keep Lyanna from her widening eyes while her mouth gaped open. She made several attempts to speak, but gasps of air was the only thing that escaped. Words could not be formed. Lyanna swore she must have looked like a trout newly fished out of the river. 

“You don’t think Rhaegar would agree?” Elia ventured. 

“Replace Jon Connington. He does a well enough job I suppose, but that is because he does what Rhaegar demands of him. Thankfully Rhaegar is typically sound of mind so things move along well.” Lya took a grape and pondered Elia’s suggestion a bit more. She wondered if Elia’s proposal was politically masterful or rash, but then she thinks it might be reckless enough to work in their favor. 

“Personally, I would love for Connington to leave for his Keep, never to return. The man is vile. I know he hated me...and you, and by all accounts you had done nothing to him except marry Rhaegar at both your parents behest. Politically I am concern with how the realm is impacted by the change...and not Lords of course as many of them endure Connington, but the people. If we can minimize the bearing this change has on their daily lives then I think Rhaegar could be persuaded." 

Lia and Elia stared at each other. 

“So, we avoid a possible Dance.” Elia nods. 

“Rhaegar gets Aegon as his heir, and his heir marries Lady Elia.” Lia smiles decisively. 

“Jae marries Sansa.” Elia raises her brow encouragingly. 

“Aemon marries Lady Margaery.” Lia smirks. 

“Visenya marries a Ser of her own, Ser Humfrey.” Elia smiles with her head tilted away. 

“Daeron married Lady Eleanor.” Lya sighs as only a mother can. 

“And the King gets a new Hand.” Elia grins. Her expression is one that Lyanna can’t help her own from following. 

“About damn time wouldn’t you say.” Lya mumbles, glad at the possibility of the man leaving her home. She considers Dany in Storm’s End and how she must be feeling...her own pain and the betrayal of her trust. She was much undeserving of this lot. “I think we might be able to add a few more private penalties for the Tyrells.” 

Elia drank the remains of her drink. “I imagine we can.” 

“But first, what did you poison our husband with and how long will he be out?” 

“I didn’t poison him. I gave him a sleeping draught in his wine.” 

“Yes...without informing him.” 

“You saw him. He was in a rage. He couldn’t continue that way. This was the only way I could see calming him down enough to see reason.” 

“Noted, but I will not take responsibility for that. Best of luck to you when he awaken.” 

“Neither one of us needs to say anything. We can continue the day as though we parted normally the night before.” 

“You are a dangerous woman Elia of Dorne.” Lyanna could feel her brow hike in measure of the woman before her. 

“As are you Lyanna of Winterfell.” Elia dipped her head as though to emphasize her own counterpoint. 

They stared at each other, neither woman choosing to look away. 

A dangerous glint entered Elia’s eyes as a slow smile tugged at her lips. 

“So Lyanna, pray tell what sorts of additional requirements did you have in mind?” 

Lyanna thought about the woman before her. 

Rhaegar would always be a sore subject between them. They did not interfere with each other’s marriages and as long as that held firm Lyanna could find security in that. 

She would not call her friend, but Elia care for her children as a mother does, she is kind to Lyanna’s own sons when she has no reason to be, she cares for the people of this realm. On those matters they were of the same mind. 

No Queen Elia Targaryen would never be her friend, but after tonight she might be the greatest ally Queen Lyanna Targaryen’s ever had in this Court. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All in all I am satisfied with their talk. This is it for them. The tone is set for how they will deal with each other moving forward. Their shared common agreements setting a path...peace between their children and peace within the realm. 
> 
> I know you might have seen the scene going down differently. Feel free to share how you would have written it...or what you might have said or added. 
> 
> On a side note, I chose the title _Inertia_ because of the natural cross purpose of the word. Inertia (n): is the force that causes something moving to tend to continue moving, and that causes something not moving to tend to continue not to move. I kind of thought Lyanna and Elia were on the trajectory. Something needed to make them move together...or forever stay in that stalemate they were in. 
> 
> As always thank you for taking the time to read my story. 
> 
> ~winter


	12. Are We All Highly Adaptable, but Resistant to Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys confronts Renly. Lia meets with an unexpected person. Two sets of siblings speak about their fears for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just having a bit of fun with them. 
> 
> A big thank you for how supportive and constructive your comments have been. While I write for myself, I do enjoy sharing my story with others...and improving on it with ideas shared by you.

The wind blew colder today, Daenerys thought, as she stood on the beach overlooking the sea. The sky grey and full of dark clouds...perhaps an omen of sorts. Her hair was plaited half way down her head, while the remainder of her curled locks drifted freely on the breeze. 

She had chosen a simple emerald green dress, a gift from Elia that had sent from Dorne. Upon its arrival, Dany had been surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture being as she and Elia are cordial but not close. The vividness of the color was the second detail that struck her...it was absolutely beautiful. 

Like most Dornish style dresses, it was very bare in some places and sheer in others, but it made her feel powerful and beautiful, and in this moment she needed to feel those feelings most desperately. Today she asked her husband to meet her for a walk along the shoreline.

“There you are, my Love!”

The warmth in her husband’s voice upon his discovery of her served as a thin cut on her already bruised and bloodied heart. How could he sound so genuine when in actuality he was inauthentic in his feelings for her? Unable to face him in that moment, she continued to look out towards the sea as if looking for a sign that this conversation needed to occur...now.

“Have you ever wondered what life is like on the other side of the sea?” Dany called out, the hard breeze forcing her to speak louder than she usually did. 

“No, not really.” By now Renly was standing beside her, his hand seeking hers; raising her hand to his lips. Such a courtly gesture, she observed, but in hindsight she could see how such an expression of affection could be misleading. Now she thinks the action serves to say _“look at me now...pay attention to what I choose for you to focus on...in doing so you’ll never truly see me.”_

Dany returns her gaze to the horizon. She thinks there are two or three black spots in the distance, but she cannot be so sure. She wonders if Renly knew what she did, then would he feel differently about Essos. 

Could he have been happier there than he was here in Westeros...with her...a person he clearly had not wanted nor respected enough to maintain mutual fidelity?

Children aside, if he has a choice would he have picked the freedom of Essos and Ser Loras over the lot he was born into?

Sadly, she thinks he would have. On one hand she thinks it’s a shame he will never have that option. This feeling doesn’t come from a place of altruism, but rather a place where she would like a form of freedom from him for herself. If he was free to leave for Essos, then she would be free of him...and she so wanted to be unrestricted. 

The need to be unattached was recently born in the aftermath of his deception. She dream of a life with a husband who respected and trusted her...and daresay in time would grow to love her. Dany thought this man was Renly, she could have sworn it true.

Years of letters, visits, gifts, and warmly spoken words and gestures...these moments, these memories, they were the foundation on which she began to build her future...a future with him. Dany took a hard swallow, as she steadied herself when another wave of hurt and pain rolled through her. 

This was not lost on her husband, his had shot out to grip her waist as though to support her, but in this moment she wanted nothing to do with him...she didn’t want his touch nor his concern. 

It meant nothing because to him, she meant nothing. She wasn’t even worth the pretense that he lie to himself and keep to her and only her, let alone worth telling her the truth of his wants...his desires. Perhaps she could have understood once, even accepted it...perhaps.

Dany pushed him away. The stiffening of his back as hurt rippled across his face caused Dany to walk away. 

“Daenerys! What is wrong? Why are you being so harsh with me? Have I done something to offend you? Speak of it now and let us move beyond it. Whatever it is it couldn’t be that bad, Love?” The tone of his voice ended on a swell of uncertainty.

Even though her body stopped moving, her tears still fell...tears she no longer thought she had to shed. Her heart was broken and to use such words to describe the sensation did the reality an injustice. The truth was there were no words to define the level of devastation she felt. 

Nothing felt right, she didn’t recognize herself or her life. The most mundane and automatic things she never gave a thought to before seem to cause her to pause. Since her discovery of his other life, of his other love, she proceeded with life but it was a struggle to act as though all in her world was well. 

It hurt to breath, she thought...how could an act that she was able to do without being taught cause her such agony.

As she stood looking out into the sea, before his arrival, it took a reserve of strength which forced her to not walk out into the water...to keep on walking until the coldness of the sea swallowed the constant surges of embarrassment and humiliation that would descend upon her with frequency. The worst being that others knew of it...her family, the Tyrells, and god knows who else. 

Was this how it felt for Elia, she wondered. The sensation of losing the ground beneath your feet, of being betrayed by a man you thought had loved you enough to be honest with you...a man you trusted would never hurt you or put you in harms way. To be in a constant state of oscillation between pain and fury.

While she can see that Renly didn’t put her in same physical danger Rhaegar put Elia, he put their reputation and the future of their children in just as much jeopardy. In the end he destroyed her when he devastated them. She wasn’t deserving of that, not especially when she loved him so. 

His grip on her shoulders, the pressing of his expansive chest against her petite frame, it made Dany want to howl at the world. Was the sky expansive enough to contain her hurt and her rage? 

Dany didn’t think it was, so there was naught left for her to do but to hold it inside...for if it is within her, then she could contain it. To unleash her ire on the world...what would that do for her, her children, her family, or the realm in the end. 

Judgmental, that is what her mother had called her in attempts to guard her from such hubris. The young woman in her now understands her eldest good-sister much better than she ever had before. It is a shame that this epiphany of empathy came at such an expense, but isn’t that usually the way. 

Renly’s arms wrapped around her, he squeezed her gently, his nose buried in her hair. 

Dany shut her violet colored eyes and allowed herself a few more tears. If she allowed herself, she could pretend that all was well and that he loved her as much as she loved him. That together they would make a family of their own and they could be happy here.

Could Dany believe in anything Renly would say to justify his behavior? Would Elia have believed Rhaegar back then? While it added to her current pain, she knew the answer to be _no_.

“Dany...”

How she loved how he said her name. Others had called her that her whole life, but when he first said her name and every time after...it always felt special when her name fell from his lips. She shook her head but found no clarity.

“I wonder...” She pressed her lips together in an effort to control the tremble of her mouth.

“What...nothing you can wonder should ever bring on this type of melancholy dearest.”

Beautiful words, she thought...beautiful words for a beautiful liar. 

“I wonder...if you hold Ser Loras this way. I wonder how different he must feel in your arms compared to me. Which do you prefer? Though in all fairness I think I know which one of us you would fancy.”

His surprised fell off his body as he jolted against her before stepping away. 

She turned to finally see his face. Her dead eyes meeting his astonished, yet terrified expression. 

“Why would you say something like that? Ser Loras is my friend. There is nothing unbecoming of our...”

“Stop! I demand that you stop lying to me. Stop it, Renly.” Her voice was strained and high-pitched to her own ears...a desperate shouting at worst.

And he did. He stopped. She could still sense the terror, but under it all she could feel the unspoken relief. Another blow to her rapid diminishing confidence...how many more hits could she sustain before she became unresponsive to the remaining experiences life had to offer.

“I know about you and him. I was made aware of your _relationship_ , when I overheard one of your conversations with him and Lady Margaery. The easy and familiarity in speech and in topic left little doubt as to what your true relationship status is with Ser Loras.”

Her husband looked away from her, his gaze staring blindly at the castle wall as he swallowed deeply. At that moment she guessed he was swallowing his fear, his justifications, the possible...costs. 

Dany look away herself, her own violet gaze returned to the sea. Her eyes recognizing the consequences that were to come. 

“Then to confirm, I had you watched...inconspicuously of course...and when you and your lover were together I spied on you from the safety of your sea cave walls. Yes, just beyond where we stand. You and him...in all your passions; it was a sight to behold. I learned more about who my husband was in those moments than I had ever learned in the many years of our courtship.”

“I know you have no cause to believe me, but I do love you Daenerys.” His voice pleading.

At that Dany laughed loudly, her shoulders shook with the force of it. The disbelief of it all. 

“Oh Renly, you do not speak as unkindly as you did, of people you love, when you spoke to Margaery and Loras. You don’t love me. When I remember the callousness and disregards of me...your wife...their friend...I realized that you couldn’t love me, you didn’t even respect me as a person who did nothing but support you. With no respect there can never be love. Neither can truly exists without the other.”

His blue eyes, the ones she once thought to be so expressive and transparent, they stared at her in regret. She didn’t know him anymore, not that she ever did, and she couldn’t tell if that look of regret was for hurting her or for himself and his lover. The answer is one she will never truly know regardless of the words he said, and that awareness sent an ache through her heart. 

In a hoarse voice he asked, “What now?”

Dany straightens her back, steps forward, and cups his chiseled jaw. Her eyes gazing into his, recording every twitch of muscle on his face as his looked down at her. She turns his head carefully towards the sea. 

“Now Lord Baratheon the Crown has come... to renegotiate what remains of our union.”

Daenerys will never forget her husband’s lowered brow, widened eyes, slack jaw, and ashen pallor as he saw three Targaryen naval ships heading towards their shores. 

With her last and final words said to the man who destroyed the girl in her, the woman now born, turned away and began walking up the stone steps that took her away from an old path and on to a new one.

*****

As a child who grew up in bastardy, high born parentage aside, Lia learned very early on how to read the mood of the people around her and the environment she found herself in. There were two faces here at the Red Keep.

The face the royal family presented to the noblemen in residence was that of happiness for the upcoming wedding match between the Crown and the North. This union being seen as the proper honoring of a pact made between the families a long time ago. This façade was promoted by those who managed the image of the royal family, even in the face of both Queen’s departing the castle with other royals and Starks...even the groom. 

On the other hand, there was the private face, the one only very few saw...those closest to the King and to the family that remained in the Kings Landing. 

She thought of Rhaenys’s and her friend’s recent distracted behavior, for this went beyond daydreams of her and Robb, there was an undercurrent of...fear. Aegon was guarded in his countenance, and when he came to from his own preoccupied musings he would force a smile at her and dismiss her concern with a _“I am well, Li...just tired.”_

Lia knew this wasn’t the truth. She knew him better than this, but she knew that as the King’s son he couldn’t always be so free to share his thoughts as he once used to...not yet at least. 

To those left behind to deal with the King and his children, one could see that he was angry. It wasn’t anything King Rhaegar did or said, per se. If you watched him too closely anyone who cared to look could see a man who hid his true feelings inside, and the sense that the one within him was barely restrained. She had not felt that in him before, but clearly something had changed for him. 

Lia found she wasn’t scared of him, but rather scared of what he would do...but then she didn’t understand why she thought he intended to anything that would warrant concern. His daughter, and her dearest friend, was about to be married. Something was not right...in fact things had been wrong since word of the King receiving a note from Storm’s End. 

Wanting out of the castle. She needed to escape the oppressive atmosphere that was wrapped in false presentation. Her mother had encouraged her to take a walk in the Godswoods, but Lia felt herself drawn to the sea. 

A few days past, Aegon had wanted to informally introduce her to his brother Jaehaerys. They had walked along the shore as Lia got to know Jae a little bit. She could see why Sansa was besotted. There was something about his expression when her name came up in conversation or when he spoke of her. Their feelings seemed mutual.

In an effort to find a private place to just be without the prying eyes of the Court, both men had shown her a secret passage way from Maegor’s Holdfast to this small stretch of beach that was seldom used...with the exception of an occasional smuggler. 

In preparation for running into such a person, she tucked her sais into the special harness Prince Oberyn had made for her. What she had not prepared herself for was seeing the king. 

He stood with the legs of his britches rolled up past his meaty calves, his hands cupping the back of his head as his silver white hair blew towards the ocean, his gaze facing towards the sea. The gentle waves pulling and pushing the water and sand away from his feet. 

Whatever brought his anger before now has morphed into melancholy. That feeling ebbing and flowing with the pattern laid out by the water. As she observed him, she thought that it was here that he seemed more like a regular man and less like a monarch. 

Feeling like she was intruding on this rare chance at solitude and not wanting to accidentally reignite his seething anger, Lia began to a walk back as quietly as she could. The squawking of one bird to another as they both swooped down to snatch a small crab crawling across the sand, broke the King’s focus. He turned his head to the side to observe the situation and in doing so Lia’s presence was revealed to him. 

Lia froze as his indigo colored eyes captured her in his gaze. This man had depths and levels of which made her pause, she thought. This was a frightening dangerous man. Her own Aegon looked so much like him, and she could see the similarities beyond looks. 

Both men had a side they hid from others. Aegon deflects speculation by using humor but his father redirects suppositions by using extreme formality. When Aegon is in such a mood, Lia knows how to reach him...she does not have fear of him...but his father is another creature all together. Lia does not know how to proceed with him. 

“Lady Lia.”

“Your Grace.” Remembering her courtesies, she dips as expected. 

She catches a small smile pulling at his lips before he turns his head back towards the sea. Lia is not sure if she should excuse herself, so she remains as she is.

“I take it my son showed you the way to this small haven.”

She knew Aegon had spoken to his father about her...sharing his intentions and forcing his father to choose. Their interactions were limited though; she wasn’t sure how to proceed. They had familiarity in the awareness of each other’s existence, but they were not directly familiar with each other. Falling back on her social graces, Lia replied.

“Yes, they did, your Grace.”

“They?” Surprise in his voice as he turned his head to look at her, his body still directed towards the sea. 

“Both the Princes Aegon and Jaehaerys brought me here not so long ago. I found it to be such a lovely reprieve from the constant activity of the castle.”

The King choked out a laugh as he bent down; putting his hand in the water and letting the wet sand shift through his fingers. “It seems we are in agreement.”

“It seems so, your Grace.”

“I also imagine my sons, primarily Aegon, would have told you that coming by yourself isn’t the wisest course of action. As lovely as it is, there is an element of danger in coming here alone.” He threw a fist full of pebbly sand out to sea.

Lia was warned, but she wasn’t fearful, she came prepared. 

“I am not alone.”

The King’s raised his silver brow...Gods it is a marvel to her as to how much her love shares in common with this man. This expression was so...Aegon.

“I know that I am not with another person, but I am here with protection.”

The king looked around as if he was looking for another. Sensing his confusion, Lia walked towards him.

“What I mean is I came with my own protection.” She pulls out her sais. His eyes widen. 

Raising up to his full length she couldn’t help but look upward. While Queen Elia was a petite woman; short in stature, her son inherited his father’s impressive height...as well as other visible aspects of his physique. 

“May I?” His hand extended as he gestured to her favorite sparring weapons. 

“Of course.”

He took one and began to inspect it, turning over and holding it in different directions, testing the weight of it in his hands. While he was fascinated by the items in his possession, Lia gently kicks off her slippers, careful to leave them far enough from the water to ensure they would not be ruined. 

She thought this is the most...settled he had seemed since he received the letter. 

“This is a remarkable weapon. I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

Raising her hem from the ground; walking to standing beside him, the coolish-warmth of the water offering a refreshing reprieve from the sweltering heat. Lia looks at the item in question.

“It is a sai.” She can feel her face break out in a smile as she looked at the unique dagger. Many people who enjoy the history and purpose of weaponry have always been mesmerized by her blades. His reaction seemed so...human, she mused. “A weapon found more commonly in Yi-Ti.”

“Yi-Ti? I have read much about that land. How did you manage to get such a tool all the way in Dorne?”

“Prince Oberyn gifted it to me many years ago after one of his long journeys.”

The king’s eyes one again seemed to burn something inside of her. What was he looking for? Did he doubt her feelings for his son? Did he dislike her for making his son weak...like he once was...by choosing love over duty?

“You are very close to the Martell’s.” His eyes never turned away from hers, and though she knows it is imprudent to keep her eyes on the king’s she felt like she could not turn away...as if doing so meant she was admitting to some kind of deficiency within herself. 

“Yes I am. I have known all of them in some capacity my whole entire life.”

“Hmmmm...I wasn’t seeking an explanation Lady Lia. I was just making an observation.”

“Yes, of course, your Grace.”

He silently laughed as he returned her sai to her. “ I think it is safe for you to call me Rhaegar when we are in private. The _your, Graces_ can sometimes feel like too much courtesy when in such a relaxed setting.”

Lia dipped her head in agreement. “I imagine one grows tired of it after a while...” she says, noticing how watchful his gaze was of her expression as she returned her blade to her harness. “...the pretense of it all.”

“Ha...” He shakes his head, the sunlight making his hair shimmer against the light. “...it’s not the life for everyone. Not all are made for such demands. It’s an insidious world of illusions...this world of ruling and royalty. Not all are design to withstand the pressures of it.”

They stood in tense silence of a kind. Lia wondered if he was speaking of himself or of Aegon...or even of herself. Was this the moment when he would tell her that he desired her to cast Aegon aside, return to Dorne, and leave her love to marry another...to marry Lady Margaery...a lady bred for the role much unlike her. 

Lia spoke the truth in her heart. The part of her that tried to get Aegon to see why he should not step away from his duty. Biting her lip, she gathered her courage to do a foolhardy thing; the sound and feel of the water making her a bit braver than she would have normally felt. 

“I believe that Aegon was meant to rule, to lead, to be...king. He is so resilient; in such a way that defies reason.” A breathless chuckle forced itself past her lips. “He persist when others tend to fall away against the pressures of life...a gift or a curse I say...to continue onward a path or deviate should the occasion call for it; all in an effort to succeed.”

The king tilted his head, his eyes narrowed, but his gaze never wavered...and yet she still continued. 

“He has a way of making others do that which they do not truly want to do; to do so without losing parts of yourself. He’s not perfect, not by any means, but he is genuine. I think that is what people want in a king...someone who is...true. A true king; wouldn’t that make for a good king?”

The man pressed his lips together has his narrow eyes turned away from her face. Once again he looked towards the sea, but this time she noticed he had shut his eyes. 

“I know about you Lady Lia. I know who your true father is, and not the man my Court speculates he might be.”

Lia stiffened at his quiet words that drifted on the cool breeze. She didn’t know what to say. Up to this point, she and Aegon agreed that his father would know that she was the legitimized daughter of Ashara Dayne. His uncles had not cared that the Six Kingdoms thought she was one of their daughter’s. On a personal level, they cared for them both enough not to care...especially Oberyn. On a political stage it worked in Dorne self-interest. 

Her real father told her he would work out a plan for her to have him in her life, but now she didn’t think the plan was necessary. The King knew and he would never select Aegon to be the next King. Her love would walk away from this life or she would have to run away from him. It seems like her path will always be a split one...always on the periphery, but never truly a part. 

Wetting her lips, she would not deny for she does not think the King would offer the information to the realm; that would harm his wife’s kin. She does think he would use it to bring her to heel, and he would be right. To many people could be hurt if her truth were revealed...people she loved. 

“I see. May I ask who told you?” Lia was bracing for a betrayal from someone she trusted, but hoped for the best as she waited for him to respond. She turned her gaze down, watching as the sand shifted under her feet. How fitting...unstable ground...the story of her life. 

His exhalation sounded like a strangled breath, pulling her gaze back to his. 

“It wasn’t a person per say. I am not sure if you are aware but you and my son are not very discreet Lady Lia.”

Horrified by his implication Lia gasped. While she loved Aegon desperately, she was still a maid; completely intact. Her reaction caused his head to do a double-take, his eyes widened in response. 

“You misunderstand me, my Lady. Prior to Aegon’s recent approach to discuss formally asking for your hand, it had been brought to my attention that Aegon had loved...loves...a young Dornish woman but she was illegitimate. A daughter of high-born parents. When my son refused to marry Lady Margaery and told me of his devotion for his love, I did not know who he spoke of. But I knew it was you before he came to see me to ask for your hand.”

“Why did you think it was me?”

“Because when you arrived, my son became different...he felt different, not the young man I had grown to know.”

“Oh. I could argue that what we have is friendship.”

The king’s laughter was loud and carefree...his laugh caused his chest to shake as he leaned over resting his large hands on his knees. When he rose, she saw him rub a tear away. She wasn’t sure if she should have felt offended. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t jest. I have to admit I haven’t felt this free to laugh in what feels like such a long time, my Lady.” His expression changed, becoming...subdued.

“I just do not understand, King Rhaegar.”

His brow quirked in admonishment. 

“I know you have given me leave to be familiar, but this conversation does not feel like the proper time to be so. Allow me this insistence that we return to formality for the time being.”

Aegon’s father spared her a small smile, once that looks so much like his; nodding his head in agreement. 

“My son’s gaze does not track you like a friend, Lady Lia. He watches you, notes your expressions and countenance. It is not lost on me that he quietly asks that your needs are met, even though he makes no loud overtures. Your thoughts and moods matter to him. You have power over my son. That is how I knew you were the one.”

Lia felt her eyes stinging and told herself it was the salty sea air, but she knew the truth of King Rhaegar’s words. She and Aegon were always so quiet, but oh so present to anyone who cared to notice. 

“I see. How do I know you know who my father is? You’ve not said his name. You might be right about me and Aegon, but there is no evidence you know who my sire is.”

The King release another deep breath, a hint of amusement in the sound. “Very observant you are...correct I haven’t said his name. Once I release it we can’t go back...it can’t be unsaid.”

Lia needed to know...if he thought anyone other than...perhaps Aegon still had a chance at the crown. 

“I accept that. Who do you think he is, King Rhaegar?”

With a quick nod in her direction, his face takes on a more serious approach...an aggrieved one, she thought.

“Lord Eddard Stark.”

Lia kept an impartial expression on her face, even though she was sure her heart had fallen out of her chest and was currently being swept out into sea. She refused to shift her eyes away. Years of bastardy taught her how to outpace a person whose intent had been to strip her bare with the truth of her ill-defined parentage. She would use this skill to make sure she would not confirm the King’s correct assessment.

“An interesting choice. Why do you think Lord Stark? What is so special about him?”

A twitch or a tug on the King’s lips, caught her eye. Fear was rising in her, but what could she do other than to run away. Running only confirmed. She would remain neutral and depart in quiet...just as she had arrived. 

“Well I’ve looked into the gazes of those who hold Stark gray eyes for many years now. I am well versed in the exact hue of its true color. It’s not a variation on the pigment itself. Stark gray is Stark gray, and you my Lady have the same color eyes of my wife and sons.”

Lia felt a heavy wave hit her feet, pulling her attention downward to make sure she did not wet her dress. Thankful that the King looked down as well, how grateful she was for the distraction? She could no longer continue to hold the King’s gaze. She took the reprieve for what it was. 

The King continued. 

“Not to speak ill of your mother, but there were rumors her spending much time with a certain Stark during her time at Harrenhal. I know there were two Stark brothers there, but like my son...I noticed the way Eddard looks at your mother. I could see the signs of a man living in a kind of agony that spoke of want and need with a fair measure of doubt.”

“Doubt?” She peeked up to his face, his own gaze looking down at hers.

“Doubt that he isn’t deserving of her they way he once thought he was.” His voice low and...sorrowful.

They both turned away; staring out to the sea. 

“You seem to observe much King Rhaegar. How are you so sure...that Aegon and Lord Stark feel as they do?”

Once again the voice...so small coming from a man known to be larger than life...the King who brought a realm to its knees and then turned around to raise it up from the ash...this man who many choose not to cross keeping to that choice either out of love or fear. 

“I noticed it because I understand it...I live it...all the gestures, actions, and...doubts. It’s a life I lead with Elia and Lyanna, if you really must know. Like recognizes like.”

Lia stilled. She wasn’t expecting the King to reveal such intimacies about himself. 

The King turned his body towards her; he nodded, to what she didn’t know. It looked like he received an answer to a question...a question that hadn’t been posed aloud.

“You are very easy to speak to. That can be a useful skill to have here. A talent for listening and more so for getting people to talk about matters they rather not. You feel solid, and yet you have a very gentle and calm approach. I think you could go far here in Court. Yes...I think you could.”

“King Rhaegar!” 

They turned to see her uncle Ser Arthur calling from the mouth of the cave entrance, the same place she had exited from some time ago. Not having spent much time near her mother’s other brother, Lia could see the resemblance between the siblings...the shape of their noses, curve of their cheekbones, shapes of their eyes.

Lia felt, rather than saw the change in the King. It was her only warning before she saw his current expression. The man who kept a furious spirit inside had returned.

“Ser Arthur, what news? Has Queen Lyanna’s missive arrived?”

Lia remembered that the Queen had gone to Storm’s End, so she would have arrived by now. Queen Elia would still be in route towards the Reach.

“She has my King. While she and the rest of the party have arrived safely, there has been a recent development that has arisen that requires your immediate attention.”

Once again, years of reading an environment may not have divulged all to Lia, but it told her a lot. Whatever this news was it wasn’t good. 

The King turned to her once again. 

“Lady Lia it has been a pleasure, but it seems as though reality has had enough of my dawdling, and therefore I must return to my duties. Unfortunately, I cannot in good faith leave you here unattended. I would leave my man, but I have a feeling I will have need of his particular skills.”

Lia didn’t want to put the king out, she could sense the urgency and thought to wave his concern away.

“It is okay King Rhaegar. I swear that I will be fine. Please do not let me keep you.”

The man stepped into her space, forcing her to look up, his gaze holding hers...his words traveled like a whisper on the wind. 

“Lia, tsk, tsk...after all I’ve shared...Aegon, your father, do you really think I could leave you here alone. I must insist that you allow me to bring you back to a safer place than this.”

Staring at those indigo eyes, Lia wondered if she and Aegon had children would their babes have such eyes. They were her weakness...and they clearly worked for both son and father. 

“Very well, Rhaegar.” She whispered back. 

Stepping away she collected her shoes, and followed his gesture to walk ahead of him. She stopped, and turned. 

“Just for the record, do not take my acquiesces for confirmation of your conjectures, your Grace.” 

She turned and resumed her walk, but behind her she could hear that laugh, and for a moment she allowed it to pull at her own lips. No matter what decision Aegon’s father made in regards to the line of succession, she knew deep down that she had singlehandedly won his approval as a match for his son. Though she knows it should not matter, she is honest enough with herself to know that it does...it does matter to her. 

Her ability to retract her smile was lost when she heard his reply.

“Is it part of every young Dornish woman’s education to work hard to break me? Are you aware of how much like your namesake you are? Does my son know he wants to marry his mother?” His chuckled rumbled in his chest, as he shook his head.

Finding pride in his words, Lia continued walking; simply shrugging as continued on her way. 

It wasn’t until a sennight later, that news from the Stormlands broke and was officially made public to Kings Landing. 

Lord Renly Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had died in a tragic boating accident off the coast of Storm’s End.

*****

Sansa tries to focus on the complicated stitching pattern she has attempted to undertake, but she finds herself distracted by her sister. While the owner of a serious expression, Arya isn’t a melancholic type of person so to see her so withdrawn concerns her. She attempts to reach out.

“Arya, come sit by me?”

“Why?”

“So, we can speak?”

“Aren’t we speaking now?”

“I suppose so. I just thought we could speak to each other face to face, rather than you laid out on the grown with your feet on the wall.”

“I’m sorry, but it its all the same to you I’d rather stay where I am.” Arya’s deep sigh just added to Sansa’s concern.

Looking over to see nothing but feet on a wall, as the long chaise blocked her supine body. Sansa shook her head, but proceeded with her sister’s wishes. 

“Arya, I know you don’t like to talk much about topics that make you uncomfortable, but I need to know what is bothering so?”

A long time had passed before Arya spoke, and when she did her voice sounded very lost to Sansa. It scared her to hear it. 

“It’s too much change Sansa. Gods don’t I sound like a child.” Sitting up, allowing Sansa to see her face, Arya continued as though dam broke her restraint away.

“We haven’t undergone this much change since Mother died. Robb is marrying and we just him back. We were still figuring ourselves out. The Northerners are unsure about him at times too. He’s marrying a Targaryen, and it matters little that she was raised in Dorne. You and Jae will marry and build a new family seat, in addition to your plans. I am sure Brandon and Rickon will serve as duty requires...Brandon as a knight, maybe even Rickon too. There are not many options left for me. My time...it has run out, Sansa.”

Not fully understanding Arya’s last words, she asked for clarity. 

“Arya, what do you mean your time has run out? Run of what?”

Arya shook her head, her braid falling off her shoulder. 

“I am not like you, Sansa. For as long as I can remember you always spoke of marriage and motherhood. Your games as a child were centered on such an existence. Even when I was made to play along...I never understood the appeal.”

Sansa had a sharper picture now.

“It is our lot to marry and have children. I grew up listening to the same words, and yet I do not want to marry. The idea makes me want to run...”

The sisters looked at each other. A fairly stoic woman, it shook Sansa to see a sheen of tears in her sister’s eyes. 

“All my life I had to live with being compared to _her_...in looks, in hobbies, and now it seems in thought as well.”

Sansa rose; sitting behind her sister on the ground. Cupping her sister’s cheek, she wiped a tear with her thumb.

“You are not Lyanna Stark, Arya.” Sansa whispered. 

“They said she didn’t want to marry...how are we different? People see her with the King and they assume that just because she went with him that she wanted marriage and children. Did it occur to anyone that perhaps she just wanted him...and not all of the other trappings?”

Sansa considered her sisters words. She dipped her head as she thought of what she could say to bring comfort to her sister. 

“They did marry, so perhaps she truly feel differently about marriage. Not that a marry man should be what makes you feel differently, but perhaps if you consider that you might find yourself open to marriage for the right man.”

“A wonderful dream, but I can’t guarantee I would ever feel that way and that ability to wait is not something that is gifted to women of our station. As the second daughter of a High Lord of a Great House tied to the throne, I was a valuable commodity. Now we can add good-sister to a Prince and Princess of the realm...and God forbid the realm learns the truth about Lia. My worth has amplified ten times over. Every House in the Six Kingdoms will ask for my hand, and the North will expect its due. I am just a fatted pig waiting for slaughter.”

Sansa hadn’t considered the increase value of her worth when it had just been Robb’s marriage to Rhaneys. She was open to a good match when she thought that Jaehaerys was to marry Margaery. In her joy of accepting Jae’s hand, she hadn’t thought of what this meant for Arya in the aftermath. 

There was nothing she could do to take away her sister’s anxiety, so she just wrapped Arya in a gentle embrace. As she attempted to soothe her sister’s hurt, Sansa wondered if Arya’s wish was an unattainable dream. 

“If you could choose to walk away from a marriage alliance. What would you want?”

Feeling Arya tightening her arms, hugging her tighter, she whispered. “I would hope on a ship and sail to Essos and discover all there was too see, and then I would go West.”

“West?” Pulling out of her sister’s arms. “There is nothing West.”

“How do we know that?”

“Because we have maps. Our maesters and septa would have taught us.”

“Hmmm...all they have taught up dear sister is the reason we know nothing of the West is because we’ve never said to westward.”

Sansa had to agree. 

“Just because we haven’t seen something yet doesn’t mean it didn’t exist before our consciousness had awareness of it.” 

“That is probably the wisest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I couldn’t stay the little sister forever.”

“You will always be that.” Sansa chuckled, pulling Arya in as well.

“Perhaps, but my days of acting like one have up left as well.”

They just held hands, their eyes on their intertwined fingers. 

“What if we asked Father to postpone a match and allow you to travel with Visenya?”

“Visenya is traveling? Where is she going?”

Sansa sighed, thinking perhaps she still had some little sister left in the young woman before her.

“Yesterday Visenya told us that she thinks her father will soon make an alliance with the Hightower’s; granting her permission to marry Ser Humfrey. She talked about their plan to take a ship and sail it to Essos...to go as far East as they could before returning home. Maybe you could go with them?”

Arya sent her sister a sarcastic expression. 

“Visenya is more of a dreamer than I. Her father allows the flirtation and letters, but she is more valuable a stock horse than I. Even though the House is distinguished, her father is not going to waste her value on a what...second, third...”

“Fourth...” Sansa clarified. 

“...fourth...” Arya’s eyes widened, “...younger son.” Arya dark laugh. “Yes, more a dreamer than I.”

“I know you mean well Sansa, but do you truly think the King will grant her that...let alone approach the Hightowers.”

Sansa thought about the possibility, but not wanted to give Arya false hope she settled for honest supposition. 

“I think ordinarily no, he would not. But Visenya seems to always sense things we don’t...she’s highly intuitive. Things are not right at the moment, even you have to admit there is something looming over this castle and the royals.”

“Yes...it’s hard to ignore. With father, Robb, the Queens, and the King’s two youngest children leaving.” Arya rolled her eyes. Sansa shoved her in exasperation. 

“My point is that maybe the king might take extraordinary measure in this uncertain time. So she might be correct in her presumption, and _if she were_ we might be able to get Father to agree to go as a Lady-in-Waiting.”

Arya let out a full belly laugh; dropping back down to the ground as she laughed heartedly at the sky. Shaking her head once again, Sansa laid beside her sister, their heads bent close together. 

“What was so funny?”

“Do you see me as a Lady-in-Waiting?” A soft chuckle burst forth her Arya’s lips.

“No, but Visenya isn’t your typically princess. Let’s be honest, she is not. She wear’s britches more than dresses, she’d rather spar or ride than sit in the garden or work on some form of finer arts, and she enjoys Northern ale over any wine from the Reach. Does this person remind you of anyone?”

Sansa tilted her head a bit, brow arched, and echo of sarcasm in her expression. 

“Maybe...”Arya’s smile told Sansa she had made her sister feel a little bit better. Though the issue is not resolved, her sister found her smile again.

“My point is a princess like that would need a Lady-in-Waiting who would understand her. I think you would be just that person.”

Settling her dark head onto Sansa’s shoulder, she could feel Arya nodding. 

“I think you just might be right.”

*****

Rhaenys needed Aegon. It had been almost a sennight since her father had received a letter from Queen Lyanna regarding the situation in the Stormlands. Rhaeneys felt for her aunt, and while not close, all she could feel was anger on her behalf combined with condolences. The realm would soon learn that Lord Baratheon had died.

Rhaenys tried hard not to speculate of the truthfulness of the how in that situation. The letter spoke of an accident on the seas. He had gone out on his own, as he had been known to do on occasion. It seems the sea water were stronger than the small wooden boat would withstand. 

When he had not returned, they searched for him. A ship that had gone out to sea found the boat overturned and paddles gone. A member of the search party walking the coastline found the Lord himself...apparently bloated with seawater. What a horrible way to meet your end, she thought. 

Then she began to wonder at the timing of it all, but then the lie seemed kinder to the innocent than the truth. How they are in the thick of it now? There is no possibility of a quiet escape to Dorne, but then if that were an option she wouldn’t have Robb...and Rhae didn’t want to imagine her life without him. 

This led her to searching for her brother. She had a truth she had not shared with him, and she needed to before she married. Making her way to the training yard, she observes Aegon seemed to have ended his practice. Walking absentmindedly towards her, Rhae grabs his wrist, stopping him in mid-step. Looking up he looks surprised to see her there.

“You are clearly not here, Brother?”

“Sorry. I have had some matters weighing on my mind lately. No excuse though. Ser Jaime would have be back on that yard working thrice times as hard.”

Rhaenys smiled warmly at the thought. “A firm taskmaster when needed, that was for sure...and the Gods knew you needed that more than us girls.”

“Posh. He would never be that hard on you and Vissy. Not his princesses.” Aegon knocked into her gently as they began to walk towards the family quarters. 

“You know he was only that hard on you because you were to be King on day.” Rhaenys pulled her gaze away and continued to walk looking forward. “He was preparing you to be a King who could defend himself should battle become necessary. 

“I know...now it seems all a bit disorganized and uncertain.”

“Is it? I mean Father has sought council, primarily Mother and Queen Lyanna. All who matter have been consulted...negotiations and alliances made. All that remains of informing the last of the impacted parties, and that is what the Queens have gone to do.”

Rhaenys looks up at her brother, and notices a discomfit expression in his eyes. A look she has noticed on Jae...as well as herself. She gentle tries to address it, but her brother broaches the topic before she could. 

“Do you feel like we have crossed a line? Have we set a tone for us, as a family, that can’t be undone?”

“I struggle with such thoughts. The moral ambiguity of it all. We truly didn’t understand what Mother and Jaime tried to tell us about this place. I always knew I was a Targaryen, but I guess I never really felt like one until now. Is this what we are now? Is this how we solve problems?”

Aegon paused, and she stopped as well. Pulling her towards his chambers, he stayed on course till then entered his quarters and he closed the door with his foot. Rhaenys wasn’t too surprised by her brother’s behavior. It was something he had done when they were younger, when he didn’t want their mother to overhear them plotting some mischief. 

Facing her, she saw that the slight remains of her brother youth was gone. Before was all man, from body...to the shadows that settled quietly behind his eyes. 

“I think no place is without politics. No one has clean hands, and to think that claim to be false means you deserve to lose your head for it.”

Astounded by her brother’s harsh proclamation. His tone was gentle, but the message behind the soft words were...brutal. 

“Aegon!”

“Think about it Rhae. Our family history...before our parents...for most it was bloody and brutal. Starting with Aegon I, between the succession problems, bastardy...we have taken this continent and made them the people here our toy soldiers as we play...like the children we are.” Rhaenys watched as her brother walked to fill two cups of wine for them. 

“If we weren’t battling each other, then we were so far up our own arse with our self-importance...attempting to bringing back dragons, making wildfire, prophecies about the dragon having three heads and a prince that was promised. During that time people suffered our indifference or died because of madness because they acted like our cousin Little Elia when she is denied her favorite sweetpies.”

Rhaenys dropped down into a plush chair near the balcony. She had no words for the severity of her brother’s words and found she couldn’t nor didn’t want to contradict them. 

“In all the years of Targaryen rule, there may have been a handful that were good rulers.”

“Our father being one of them...” Rhaenys supplied, and Aegon drew back as though she backhanded him. 

“Are you serious? I will admit I love him, and I shouldn’t, but a good King is a title he does not deserve.”

“Aeg people love him. He is good to the realm. He is a fair and just ruler. That is an undeniable fact regardless of how we feel about his past acts.”

“This goodness that you speak of came as a by-product of his past acts. He didn’t go into his rulership with such intent. He was planning to enter his regency with prophecies on his lips. Our supposed deaths and Lyanna’s first male child amended such foolishness. Think about it Rhae. If we hadn’t escaped but survived that night...this would be a very different king and his would be a very different realm.”

Rhaenys drank the spicy pear wine, thinking about her brother’s words. She looked out into nothingness. Her brother wasn't wrong. How many times had she wondered the same thing? Unsure as to what to say, she remained silent. 

“Dorne saved us, but Rhae they harbored us...kept us from Father, their King.”

Ready to defend Dorne with a bloodied fist, Rhaenys began to rise from her seat, wine cup forgotten as she dropped it.

“I am not saying I am not grateful.” Aegon raised his hands in preparation for defense.

“Really? Are you sure? It sounds a lot like ungratefulness. Tread carefully Aegon.”

Her brother swallowed his drink in two pulls before placing his cup on the sideboard table. 

“They did what was right for us, Rhae, but there are consequences for those actions. That is life...cause and effect...a warped wheel. To save us a woman and two small children had to die. They lied for decades, threatened war for a woman and children who still lived. What if Father went to war with Dorne? Would Uncle Doran have told the Dornish who were to fight the truth? It was a question I posed to him not to long ago, and his answer was not surprising...for he is the equivalent of a king even if he is our uncle.”

Wanting to know her uncles response, but not sure if she wanted to continue this conversation, Rhaenys persisted. 

“What was his response?”

“He said he wouldn’t have told his people. He would have used their anger to fuel their fury...remember _” an angry desert snake...”_

 _“... is more deadly than a blind dragon.”_ , I too remember this saying Aeg.” Rhaenys turned away from her brother. She walked to the balcony, leaning over to take in the view below her. It was a lovely one of the seas. 

“Rhae...all rulers make decisions that impact someone else. When hard times come, sometimes the choices a ruler makes can be of good intent with harmful effects, while others are intentional cruel with just as devastating a consequence. I am not Father, but should this family become successful in this effort, then I might one day be king.”

Reaching for her brother’s hand, he since moved beside her; leaning over the balcony. 

Gripping it tightly she speaks with pride. “You will be king. I more than know it...I feel it, Aeg.”

Her eyes follows as he gently holds her hand to his heart. “And if I am. I need you to know that by my taking on that mantel I too will have to make decisions that will mark the people I am sworn to rule...to lead...and whether my intent was good or ill, the results can be catastrophic either way. No matter what is to come, I will never have clean hands...never. I only hope that the choices I do make allow my conscious to grant me sleep at night.”

In that moment it truly dawned on Rhaenys that she and her brother’s lives were taking different turns. Today they stood together on a shared path, but the divergent road was up ahead, and she was headed North to be a High Lord’s wife and he was to remain here to be King. Though he stood before her, Rhaenys mourned for the brother he was...the brother of her youth.

“I have faith that you will be a good King.”

“ After this conversation, how do you figure?”

“Because you recognize the history of poor kings this family has unleashed on the realm. You note the ones who were good...and you are walking into this role with your eyes firmly on the sight of causing the least amount of damage for your people. With Lia by your side, who knows how this realm will prosper?”

Pulling her into his arms, resting his head on top of hers, Rhaenys took in the solidness of her brother...perhaps one of the last times they could be this familiar with each other. She sighed deeply; releasing her pent-up anxiety surrounding the recent changes to occur for her and her siblings.

“Thank you for saying so, Rhae.”

“I am not just saying it. I believe it, Aeg...down to my soul.”

He squeezed her tightly once more, before releasing her. 

“So, what brought you to the yard. Were you looking to speak about this?” He picked up her discarded cup before getting them both another drink. 

“No. I had wanted to show you something. I had been meaning to show you for a while, but then we left for Dorne and well...so much took both our attentions when we returned.”

“Hmmm...sounds interesting.” He leaned against the balcony wall, as he gave her his full attention.

“It is. When I was at Dragonshield, Uncle Viserys gave me a wedding gift.”

“Okay...why would I need to see that.”

Moving to stand next to her brother, she too took on a similar leaning position. 

Tilting her head to the side, eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t a traditional gift...I guess you could say.”

Her expression drew Aegon’s. Curiosity etched on his face. 

“What was it?”

“You have to promise not to tell. It is probably nothing, but with our father and our families past...this news could only be harmful. It could...would...bring up a topic that should best remain dead.”

His creased brow, a rarity on him but a common look on their shared father, beckoned her to spill her news. 

“He gifted me a petrified dragon egg.” Rhaenys own brow rose in a silent question _‘well?’_

“Are you kidding me? Is he insane?” Aegon’s voice rose in thunderous surprise. 

“Shhhh.” She admonished, while trying not to laugh at the shocked expression on his face. 

“I must say Vissy took the news must more calmly than you.” 

“I’m sure she did. She has the calmest countenance of any living being I know. She probably would surprise the Stranger, taking him out before he had a chance to get her.”

Rhaenys laughed into her brother’s arm. She could feel him shaking head...he was a large man, a shake of his head gently shook his upper body. 

“Well I wanted you to know. I don’t intend to tell Father, but I will keep it, of course. It is a part of our history. I want my children to know it. The bad...and the good, which you will continue during your reign.” 

“I will keep your secret. You needn’t worry about that. You know the good isn’t just me. You are a Targaryen too...you will continue the good too, Rhae. Remember, the dragon must have three heads...or in this case six. I can’t do this alone.”

Staring up at her brother’s indigo gaze, she wrapped her arm around his, and with a gentle nod she rested her head on his shoulder as they let the sounds of the sea brake against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a point of clarification: Ned was confirmed by Elia to be Lia's father. It's why he's been in those meetings. However, what we don't see in the aftermath of this past interlude was how the Queen's presented the plan to Rhaegar, and his reaction/response. All we know that they spoke and that's why the fathers (Ned, Doran, Oberyn) have been in meetings with the King (which we learned about when the young adults went picnicking.)
> 
> Rhaegar figured out who Lia was just the way he told her. He knew before Aegon or Queen Elia said anything. Him having his suspicions confirmed by others, I thought, took away the truth...that Rhaegar sees more than people might give him credit for. Also not sharing how his theories were confirm gave him a bit of information about what this future queen would be like. 
> 
> Coming next...Interlude time...Rhaegar and Fatherhood. Wish me luck with that one...lol.


	13. Interlude V: A King with Songs of His Own (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar examines his relationships with his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried something different with this chapter and I am not completely sold on whether I liked this approach, but it's written and I am gonna go with it. Each scene/interaction is prompted by a specific song:
> 
> -Viserys: Pompeii by Bastille  
> -Rhaenys: Putting the Damage On by Tori Amos  
> -Jaehaerys & Aegon: Let you Down by NF  
> If you're not familiar with these songs, then check them out. You should find connections between the songs and the scenes. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> P.S. This chapter is hella long...so I had to split it...but I posted them both so you don't have to wait. *sorry*

Rhaegar Targaryen took a moment to admire the man who walked into his private solar. 

Viserys was a man grown and had been for over ten years. He was a powerful Lord in the Westerland. A post bestowed upon him, but his fickle bannermen respected him...that was hard-earned. His name could serve to helped or hurt him and in the end his brother had loyal followers because of who Viserys the man was.

Rhaegar had little hand in who is brother grew up to be. No, that is not true, he thought. Rhaegar was everything Viserys tried not to be...or rather he made a conscious effort to stay away from Rhaegar’s more divisive personality traits.

As he watched his younger brother walk towards him, Rhaegar felt a twinge of sadness as he suddenly felt older than his years. Not much older than his own daughter...a man with a wife and children of his own. He doubts his brother will ever have the kind of regrets Rhaegar has. He finds himself a bit envious, but then cautions himself that his current life is one of his own making and therefore he should not complain. 

“Rhaegar.” Viserys voice sounds a lot like his own. 

“Viserys, thank you for coming to meet with me before you depart.”

His brother pursed his lips, but otherwise remained neutral in expression. 

“I didn’t realize the visit was optional, Brother.” Viserys forced jape fell flat between them. 

“I wish I could say with complete truthfulness that you are always given the option, but alas being king doesn’t grant us that choice. May I offer you a drink? I can send for food if you’d like.”

“No, I am fine. Just a bit curious as to why we are meeting. I leave on the morrow and I was hoping to spend some time with my Jayne and the children before I departed.”

Rhaegar knows that Viserys family is very important to him. The unit his brother has created with Jayne is always under Viserys protective gaze, as though he expects the ground to swallow them before his eyes. But then Rhaegar does not blame him, for that very exact thing had happened, and Viserys was old enough to remember it.

“I do not wish to keep you long.” Rhaegar thinks about _how_ he should approach this topic with his brother. Their relationship was always like a tower on unsteady shifting ground, leaving them both moving very little...as to avoid collapsing into nothingness. 

“It just I feel like you might have some...qualms about the plans we spoke about. When it was presented to you we weren’t in a private audience, and while I appreciate your decision to remain quiet in public I do wish to hear your concerns if you wish to speak them.”

Viserys purple eyes burned as he stared at Rhaegar. The younger man spun away before speaking. 

“I do not think there is anything I should say Rhaegar. I am being asked to serve my king and my family. I will do so. Do not fret on that account.”

Rhaegar had seen this kind of banked anger in his brother before. When Viserys was a boy who had a sharper tongue which he used to lash against Rhaegar; when thoughts of Elia and the past brought him low. He wondered if this anger was the same. Rhaegar braced himself regardless.

“Pardon if I beg to differ...”

“You are the King, feel free to feel as you like, you always have.”

The silence in the room was resounding, and all that could be heard was the echoing of what was being unsaid in that moment. 

“My apologies your Grace. That was impertinent and uncalled for.”

Rhaegar considered his brother. He was about to send him with Elia to the Reach. This was the first time she was leaving him. Yes, she had gone to Dorne, but Dorne was her home...and not part of his realm. She was leaving him, as his Queen, and he feared her departure but refused to reveal it to anyone. If he was sending his brother with her, then he needed to make sure he and his brother cleared the air...he needn’t have Elia aware of it. There was much weight on their heads as it was. 

“Viserys, I need you to speak to me now as my brother for I do not think the issue that bothers you comes from a Lord, but rather as family. Say what you need to say, Brother.”

The young man stared at Rhaegar for a long moment before he rubbed his face with his wide hands, pulling back his silver-blonde hair as his eyes focused on the older man before him. 

“Doesn’t this feel all a bit too familiar, Rhaegar?”

Rhaegar had a feeling he needed a drink to continue this conversation...and perhaps his brother as well.

“How so?” He passes the barley ale from the North to his brother before seating himself, giving his brother his full attention.

“The Tyrells. You trusted them more than most...hells you sent them Renly, a boy my age to ward with them...”

“I _had trusted_ them more than any other House. They were a great ally to us during the Usurpers War.” Rhaegar took a long sip. 

“I told them to care and raise the boy, to sway his alliance to us. He was a Baratheon and he had lost his brothers, but he was young...and very eager to please...that I remember of him. I thought they could nurture him...”

“To what Rhaegar...to love us. To love the man who killed their eldest brother when he took his brother’s betrothed...married her...and put a babe in her belly. The man, who our father had to have a Valyrian bride for, which resulted in the deaths of his parents while on this search.”

Rhaegar thought of Robert, of the feelings swirling in his blue eyes during their final battle. The anger, the hatred, the deep wounded hurt that never healed...it all shone through the eyes he could see from the open visor of his helmet.

“He and I are of the same age...or close to. I have my own anger against you. Damages that have never healed properly, and we had our mother...who loves us both...to knit and mend our grievances. You cannot blame Renly for his feelings. Our family is not blameless.”

“No, our family has hurt his...hurt him. I will not say we haven’t, but I gave him distance. I thought I placed him in the care of people who would nurturer him...so he would not be alone. We could not be that for him. After everything Viserys, _we could not be that for him_.”

Rhaegar stood and began pacing before Viserys.

“So, I sent him to the Reach. I gave him access to our sister...to her tender heart. So that he could love her and she in turn would love him. She would have given him the family, the home our family took away.” Rhaegar’s voice shook with emotion as he thought of his sister. 

“He threw that away...that chance. There is much responsibility I will have to shoulder, but his choices I will not. There are his and only his.”

Viserys nodded slowly. Rhaegar hoped he was absorbing his words...in hopes that he could change his brother’s heart.

“And the Tyrells.”

“What of the Tyrells?”

“The last time a House betrayed you to the likes of the Tyrells was a long time ago. You made Tywin pay. How badly will you make the Tyrells pay for their hubris and dishonesty? This feels so reminiscent of the Lannisters.”

“It is not the same. I am not the same.” Rhaegar confirmed. 

“If I close my eyes Rhaegar and I just let my senses control my thoughts; all I see are how closely aligned the present is to the past. You trusted Tywin to protect what you held dear and he sought to kill it, and replace it with his line...his House.”

Viserys fell into the seat across from Rhaegar, his breath heavy.

“You trusted the Tyrells. They have always been in your good graces, Brother,...from a seat on the small council to a future princess. You gave them Renly and you imparted your expectations, and what did they do. They kept their tongues while they encouraged a relationship between Renly and Loras. They knew who Renly was to be...the good-brother of the King.”

“I had to start trusting my Houses again, Vis. I couldn’t remain isolated. We wouldn’t have survived.”

“If I didn’t know the family I’d say they kept silent on Renly’s predilections to protect Loras, but alas I do know them. So, no such conjecture will leave my lips. They thought their Rose would marry the Crown Prince. They still do not know that is not to be. They are working under the assumption that they’ll have the ear of the Crown Prince and the King’s sister...biding their time until their Rose becomes Queen, replacing our line with their House.”

Rhaegar couldn’t ignore the doubt and concern in his brother’s eyes. It pulled at him.

“We both know that under a strong matriarch like Lady Olenna Tyrell, Lady Margaery was groomed to be the same, and eventually another Rose...until our family would be Targaryens in name but Tyrell in spirit, and eventually history could see that change too.

Viserys seemed to be lost in thought. Matters not resolved between them. 

“It seems you understand my anger, Viserys, I just don’t understand why you are angry with me about it.”

The younger man shook his head, his long hair falling to cover his face, elbows on his knees...he spoke.

“Do you remember what you were like then? With Tywin? You went after him with everything you had and you broke him...and his House. You now sent two envoys with the might of your force to call a House to heel for their duplicity.” 

Viserys looked up his eyes gleaming with unshed tears, it made Rhaegar flinch. 

“Do you remember how we lived in a constant state of fear that complications from your course of action would come our way?”

Rhaegar thought back to that time. Yes, consequences for his decisions coming back to harm them was a constant concern. He dipped his head in acknowledgment. 

“I do not know about you, but I was always afraid back then. Now I do not feel much differently than I did then. This time the stakes for us, for me, are so much higher should you fail in this endeavor.”

Reaching out to clasps his brother’s hand, a gesture meant in support; but his brother pulls away.

“Hear me when I say Viserys that I am aware of how much higher the stakes are should I tread with too heavy a hand. My family...all of you...my people...this realm; all could suffer a consequence that you are not deserving of. I am also aware that I can’t just ignore this either.” 

“No, I suppose you could not.”

The doubt in Viserys's voice stung.

“We shall all be, in our own way, uncomfortable with this lot, Brother. They must have consequences for his. I just hope you believe me when I say I have optimism that we will not have need to take our family or the realm back to that time.”

“How am I going to be an optimist about this?”

Rhaegar didn’t know what he could say to reassure his brother, for he wasn’t completely wrong in his fears. So, he said the one thing that made him feel secure about their course of action.

“Well take heart that it’s not me leading this; it will by my Queens. I find they can be very persuasive, especially when in anger. Both are in possession of large quantities of perseverance, while being sharp of mind and clever of tongue.”

Viserys sat back, his gaze never wavering from Rhaegar’s as begrudging consideration settled around them.

*****

Rhaegar remained in his solar after excusing this brother. Their talk heavy on his mind. It is the conversation he had with Rhaenys earlier that morning that calls his attention.

His eldest daughter, the poised and composed young woman he had grown to know and love, she came to him after she had learned of her mother’s departure. Like her siblings she was informed formally, and like the astute princess Elia raised her to be, she waited to speak to him in private about her concerns. 

He knew she would be upset, with her wedding a little more than a moon turn away, but he truly feared allowing the Tyrells and Baratheon any chance to lobby to work against him by soliciting dissenters...to force his hand and concede in an effort to keep the realm safeguarded. 

“Mother tells me she needs to go. She needs to do this...for our family...for the people of the realm.”

“It is the simplified answer, but yes.” Rhaegar stood beside his daughter as she stared out at a few boats sailing out to sea. 

Her dark hair always done in a simple style, her long loose curls falling behind her. Rhaegar marveled at the length of it at times. Her shining glory. In that moment her curls wobbled as she shook her head. A wet sniff the only warning of her tears.

“I need more than a simple answer, Father. You are about to send my betrothed, my mother, my dearest sister...a brother...my uncle...out into the world weeks before I marry to help you stave off a potential war. I think I warrant more than what you have offered.”

Rhaegar considered her words. He didn’t want to close the conversation, but how did he explain without telling her about his past...about Tywin.

“It is complicated, my daughter. I entrusted a House to be loyal and they weren't. I can’t ignore it and I can’t reward it. All I can do is mitigate the consequences.”

“Then why aren’t you going? Why them?”

The tears crested on her eyes brought Rhaegar’s guilt to the forefront. 

“I think I would make matters worse...or rather my Queens think...and after some persuasion I am inclined to agree with them.”

Rhaenys turned away from him, but Rhaegar saw the tears fall.

“And the trust they broke it has to do with the letter you received from Daenerys and Aemon.”

“Yes.” Rhaegar sighed, his breath felt harder to push out than before. 

“Why do I feel like this problem is _your ghost_ coming through from the past? It seems like no matter how hard I try not to move your ghost always seem to be passing through.” Rhaenys shoulders quaked as her quiet sobs shook her slender frame. 

Rhaegar reached for her, but his daughter slapped at his hands, and step away from him. He couldn’t prepare himself from seeing her wrecked expression.

“All my life I always wondered what my mother or my siblings did that necessitated you leaving us as you had. I was raised to know of your actions and the reason the realm was taught, and then you found us and I learned more of it.”

“Rhaenys, please, my girl.” Rhaegar took a short step towards her; one she backed further away from; her hands raised. 

“Through it all you always made yourself pretty. Pretty in words, pretty in regrets, pretty in shame, pretty in sorrow. Are you aware of how pretty you look when you are putting the damage on?”

Her words pierced him as if she through the blade of her staff into his belly.

“Do you know how hard it is for me to walk these halls? Head high as though the world doesn’t know that my father left me here to die. That the only reason I live is because my mother’s people turned traitor and Ser Jaime as well.”

Rhaegar didn’t know for it was never a question he thought to ask her. 

“I sit at a table across from a woman who had your children and lived a life that should have always been my mother’s...whose children lived a life my brother and sister were denied.”

He tried to speak, to calm her but she would not relent.

“Do not tell me of my mother’s choice to keep silent. If we had died my words would still be truth. Do not misunderstand my ire. I do not hate the existence of my brothers, for they are here, and I have grown to care for them. My anger is that if you stayed true to your duty, then I wouldn’t have to walk these halls knowing what my life should have been.”

Turning away from her, Rhaegar felt old. While he and Visenya had this kind of conversation years ago, and Aegon about a year ago, Rhaenys never seemed to want to broach it; even though Rhaegar tried to bring it up. Rhaenys held on to the best impression of Queen Elia Martell. She kept matters she did not want to address at bay until she demanded the issue be spoken. 

“Now she is leaving...they are leaving...and I would bet the entirety of this realm that the cause lies in your choice to abscond with Lyanna.”

Leaning against a pillar, Rhaegar thought about his daughter. How he had fallen in his duty to her. Her fury and her fear, the source comes from his own hands. He could not deny it. The list of regrets, shame, and sorrow seemed never ending. He was breaking under the strain of it. A heaviness of his own making, but still splintering under the weight.

He could give her the present event that demand the absence of those she holds most dear, but the truth remains that at its core her reason is the true one. 

“Feel free to say nothing, Father. Your pretty eyes speak for you...your response received loudly and with much clarity.”

“It is not that I want to deny your words. It just that in responding I find myself heading down the path of apologies, and in this moment I do not think you want to hear them, no matter how heartfelt they are.”

They just stared at each other. Rhaegar was at a loss as to how he should proceed. With Visenya and Aegon he had their anger and clear eyes, but with Rhaenys she is angry, but she is hurt, and the hurt is harder for Rhaegar to push through. 

He can’t match his hurt to hers, his child, but then he was never good at holding his own pain against those of his children. Rhaegar may not be his father, mad and jealous of his own blood, but he isn’t a man his children feel warmly about. They do not hate him, he does not think, but they do not like him. 

“I need them to come back to me. I need them to come back whole. I do not think I can survive the loss of them. I want to marry Robb. I want to be his wife. I have a chance at a really good future, please don’t let your ghost from the past take that away from me. If there is any thought that I could lose any of them, please don’t let them go.”

Rhaegar looked at the young woman before him. He tried to find himself in her, but she looked so much like her mother. Her frame, shape of her eyes, nose, chin...so much like Elia. He saw the vulnerability as well...a fear that always seems to creep behind her dark purple eyes, when she thinks no one is looking at her. 

That he thinks is his contribution to her, and it mortifies him to concede such an awareness. He thinks of the journey he is sending his family on; they are safe, and well protected. His Queens and those he has met in regards to his matter have planned well and made assurances to safeguard themselves. Rhaegar knows he wouldn’t have agreed otherwise, but he reconsiders at her request.

He pushes away from the post, and walks slowly towards his daughter. Rhaegar stops before her. The salt of her tears leaving trails on her beautiful face, eyes red-rimmed, nose swollen, mouth scratch from her biting of her own lips as she stares at him. 

You Rhaegar Targaryen maybe be worse than your own father, for after a while even Aerys could no longer lure him in with hope that his father would be like the boy he remembered. To look at his daughter appearance Rhaegar thinks he is more harmful. 

They want to trust him, to believe in his declaration that he is better than he once was, but his _“ghost”_ find their way back, and then he his is back to the start...along with their lost faith in him. This exercise can only continue for so long until they will be like Rhaegar once was...expecting the disappointment, and eventually staying away. He did not want that fate, but he also knew it was probably inevitable. That wouldn’t stop him from trying to reach them. 

“Rhaenys, I know you have no reason to believe me when I tell you they will be safe. I love my family. I know I haven’t always demonstrated that in the past, but since that one time...I have always put my family first. It may seem to you like this means Lyanna and our children, but the claim does not end with her...with them.”

His voice wavered a bit as he continued.

“I love your Mother. I love the children she and I created. I would not put any of you in harms way. Never again, Rhaenys, never.”

Not a word was said, just the sound of their breathing and a few birds flying by. Rhaegar wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but he would not push her...not while she seemed to be searching for something. Not knowing if it was his words or his expression, he left her to her thoughts. What he could see was a woman who stood unbowed, unbent, unbroken.

With a curt nod, Rhaenys turns away and exit his solar was nary a word. The look in her eyes spoke of fire and blood should his words prove false. A departure that would make Elia Martell proud.

Rhaegar informed his Kingsguard that he was to be left alone before shutting himself away with the substantial load of his thoughts, and a decanter of ale.

*****

It did not take long for Rhaegar’s thoughts to take him further down his fragmented road of fatherhood. Aegon and Jaehaerys his two first sons. The creeping tendrils of shame claw up his chest as they wrap around his neck; making it so hard to swallow his embarrassment.

It is not the idea of two first sons that is perturbing. Many men have a first son with one wife and upon her death marry and have another first son with his new wife. However, the first son is a first for the wife and not husband nor the son...they know and raise him as a second son. 

Not Rhaegar. He thought he first son had perished, a son he didn’t really know. Aegon was only a babe when Rhaegar left him, his mother, and his sister on Dragonstone so many years ago. They returned to discover them gone...dead...it set their present reality on its course. By the loss of his first son, Jaehaerys ascended before Rhaegar could even comprehend his losses. 

This led to decades of raising one son as the first son when he should never have been.... _never have been_. Dangerous considerations Rhaegar, even if the son in question feels the same, he thought. 

Jaehaerys has always been quiet and reserved, from boy to man, steady and sure. It hurt both Rhaegar and Lyanna to hear Jae deal the blow that damaged the connection he thought they had. The three of them married to duty, though Jae in fairness never strayed, but he and Lyanna...for a devastating moment they had.

“You think I want to be known as the Bastard King!” Jaehaerys roared at them. The quiet one.

“You are no bastard, Jaehaerys. You and your brothers are as trueborn as any of Elia’s children.” Lyanna’s chest heaved in agitation as her voice matched their son in volume and tone.

“No Mother. My brothers are trueborn. Created and birthed years after your marriage. The marriage recognized by this realm...regardless which piece of land one stands on.”

Out of the periphery, Rhaegar watched as his wife flinched as his own body rocked back from Jae’s words.

“Jae you are my son. Always trueborn to me. The Old Gods saw to that.”

“Well what else could you say, Father. I am the next on the docket am I not. We are on the edge now aren’t we. I can’t continue to hold this illusion you and my mother seem to have about who and what I am supposed to be for you...for this realm.”

“You are our son.” Lyanna’s tears drenched her voice, her fury replaced with hurt. 

“Yes, your bastard son. Own the acts that led to it. I own what I am. No longer can I uphold your revisionist history.”

“Jaehaerys.” Rhaegar could not stop the warning in his voice, but he thought words were being said that can never be taken back. Another ribbon of regret to adorn the cloaks of penitence they all seem to wear. 

“What!” The young man shouted; walking to stand in front of his parents.

“Tell me if any statement I made is wrong. You were married with children...all of them living before you pursued my mother.”

Rhaegar’s eyes widened. Never had he heard such words from Lyanna’s sons. His children with Elia’s yes...but not his and Lya’s. Stunned into silence his son continued.

“You accepted a married man’s offer to be his wife knowing he had a wife. That means you either planned to be a second wife without speaking to the first or you hoped she would leave...an annulment would clear your path Mother, would it not. After all isn’t it every young woman’s dream to marry a Prince.”

Rhaegar watched as the tears quietly fell from Lyanna stoic expression. He attempted to curb his son's anger.

“Jaehaerys tread carefully son. You are traversing a path you cannot walk back from. Please do not do this.”

“Do you think I fear you thinking poorly of me? Have no fear for I already think poorly of you. Neither one of you has challenged my conjectures. You married in secret in the faith of the Old Gods. A faith that is followed by the minority, and I have to ask myself why. The answer came to me years ago.”

“Jae...” Lyanna’s whispered voice pulled at Rhaegar’s own dishonor. He closed his eyes.

“Well needless to say the answer was very clear after a while. You had to find a way to legitimize what you had done for I was already in route, was I not? I have always been good with numbers. It wasn’t hard to make the connection.”

The young man with eyes so like his mother just shook his head...exhaustion lined into his young face. 

“Even if you try to convince me that you had waited until you married, it matters little for the marriage was not recognized anyway. I was alive for moons before you married in the Sevens. A bastard. That is what I am. That is what you have. My legitimization means very little to me...since you don’t even have the decency to acknowledge what you did...what you made me _to be_.” 

Lyanna fell gently against his desk. Her eyes staring vacantly at the ground. Rhaegar wanted to shake his son. He wanted Jae to see reason, but what reason? He did leave a living wife and family, he had bedded Lyanna shortly after reuniting with her, and it is only because the world thought Elia dead that he has the family he has now. Rhaegar thought it mattered little to Jae that he loved their mother and the children he had with her. 

“I thought I could be the Crown Prince you had lost. I know he was a babe, but I tried to be what I thought he could be. Now the man is here in living flesh, and my idea of what I needed to be...to replace that loss...it was lacking. He is more than I can ever be.”

Rhaegar shouldn’t have been surprise to know that Jae thought Aegon might be the better man to be king. He wished he could lie to his son and disagree, but he couldn’t. His wife though...she wins points for pragmatism. 

“You have been raised for his Jae. Aegon has not.”

Running his fingers through his hair, displacing the band that held his hair away from his face, Jae countered.

“No, Aegon hasn’t been raised to rule the Six Kingdom, but he has learned how to be a king at the feet of the man who took back his country’s independence back from you. A king who turned his kingdom into one of the largest and wealthiest trading and shipping center on this continent. It rivals the Hightower.” 

Doran. Rhaegar was conflicted on his feelings for the man. He saved his family and for that he will always be grateful, but everything else it almost serves to cancel it out... _almost_.

“Under that same man he learned what is needed to be a military power in preparation to fight you. As we recovered and saw prosperity within our realm, so did they. Except now they have military might that goes beyond the guerilla warfare tactics they used before. They are ready for any who deign themselves stupid enough to attack them...by land or sea.”

Rhaegar gripped Jae’s shoulder, bringing his son’s attention to his own. He looked into those Stark gray eyes and he found himself transported to different moments he shared with his son. This son that he loves, even if the young man in question does not feel it from him.

“You were raised to be King. I never compared you to what could have been should Aegon had survived. I saw you for you...your strengths and weaknesses. If you wanted to hear them, I could give you my reasons for why I think you would be a fair king for this realm, but it sounds like you do not want the job. I just want to be clear that you aren’t stepping away because you think Aegon is better because you...”

Jae gripped Rhaegar’s shoulder in return...with the force of a man. 

“He is the better choice. A choice you don’t have to make as he is your true firstborn son. Stop trying to make something happen that isn’t mean to occur. I am not this Prince that was Promised or the third head of a dragon.” Rhaegar loosened his grip in shock...another topic never discussed.

“I am just Jae. I am the second son of King Rhaegar. I am a Prince by the designation of my father’s rank and his desire. Do not make me more than I am to assuage your own guilt. I have enough voices in my head. I wish I could shut them out, but they get loud. I cannot have yours added to them anymore. I am sorry but I am not supposed to be the Crown Prince.”

Lyanna’s body pressed against his side. Her head on his chest, arm around his waist as he pulled her closer to him. Both seeking comfort from each other.

“Then what are you supposed to be, my son.” Lyanna asked gently. It was then that Jae spoke of his desire to play towards his strength in building a military force of their own, and his wish to marry Lady Sansa Stark.

Aegon though...while a very jovial young man he too has deep waters of his own. Of his three children with Elia, it is Aegon who reminds Rhaegar of his past, his son's maturity to step aside because it was better for the realm, rather than trying to fit the realm onto his path because a box of scrolls. 

Rhaegar had been so sure of the prophecies that had filled his head. He was so sure that he unwittingly gambled what he held most dear, and he lost...lost so badly. 

These truths do nothing to take away the love he has for his second family, for it is like Rhaenys said, _“I do not hate the existence of my brothers...My anger is that if you stayed true to your duty then I wouldn’t have to walk these halls knowing what my life should have been.”_

Rhaegar walks a path of contradictions that make no sense to the world around him. He wonders if he will ever outgrow such perceptions. He loves his wives, but one should never had been. He loves his children, but three should not exist. 

He made, loved, and grew a family with his second wife; but the first family that he made and loved were thought dead and they grew without him. Now that they are all together no one understands the internal struggles he lives with. He cannot share them for as soon as he does he is reminded of his folly. No one is better than reminding him than Elia...but Aegon is a close second. 

“Why must _I_ marry the Lady?”

“As your father told you Prince Aegon. You must marry Lady Margaery as established in the alliance.” Jon Connington spoke once again for him after Aegon repeated he would not honor the marriage agreement. Rhaegar held his tongue as he allowed his hand to repeat his own words. 

The look Aegon sent Jon’s way should have told the man to step carefully, but Jon doesn’t always see the natural restraints placed on his own authority.

“Lord Connington I want to be very clear with you in this moment so that there are no misunderstandings between us. Shut. Your. Damn. Mouth. My Lord. I was speaking to my father. If I am looking for one of his devotees then I will be sure to request your presence.” 

Jon sputtered like a fish. Astonished by Aegon’s behavior Rhaegar had a delay in his response. 

“Aegon that was uncalled for and unbecoming of a prince of the realm.”

“Well you would know all about uncalled for and unbecoming behavior. Unlike you I do not think telling this man to remove himself from this conversation is likely to incite a war bringing shame and tragedy in its wake. Context matters.”

His son's silver-blonde brow hiked in judgement.

Aegon’s indigo eyes burned as they bore into his own eyes. Neither Targaryen looking away. With little effort from Rhaegar he dismissed Jon without averting his gaze from his son. It seems they were in for another row.

“Rhaegar...”

“It’s fine Jon. Give me the room to speak with _my son_.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Rhaegar could see Jon debate the merits of challenging his request. Seems leaving without protest lost the toss.

“I do not think that to be wise, Rhaegar.”

“Remember yourself, Lord Connington. He is more than just your friend; he is the King. Tread carefully, my Lord.” The biting tone of Aegon’s voice caused Jon to stiffen, as a clear volley of words once said to him were parroted back. 

“Jon...it is fine. Please see to the other matters we discussed.”

The red-haired man nodded and stormed away in quiet anger. 

“Was that really necessary?”

“Is my marrying Lady Margaery really necessary?”

“Whatever happened to context?”

“Oh, I think I am pretty clear where the context of Lady Margaery stems from.”

Rhaegar would not make lie to his son.

“You are not wrong, Aegon. This alliance honors a word I gave a long time ago. It is an alliance that served my interest at the expense of your own...and it still continues to take from you. I am sorry for that, my son.”

Aegon turned away, leaning against the wall that faced his terrace, his eyes unfocused as he stared out at the attached garden. 

“Are you genuinely sorry or are you tired of having to apologize because it is expected?”

Rhaegar’s eyes widen at the question. He should not be. He thinks it’s easier for those he loves to believe he was intentional in his recklessness, rather than to believe everything he wrought came from pride and carelessness. 

He stood up and walked beside Aegon, his own gaze unseeing the beauty before him. 

“Aegon I...” 

Trying to find the right words to make his son understand took longer than he had thought. Words...finding the right words had been something that came so easily. Now when faced with his children or his wives, Rhaegar found himself at a loss as for what to say.

“Is that a no, then?” His son’s jaw clenched. The younger version of him sat on the first step, his hand folded between his legs. 

Falling beside him, his body settling into a similar position; Rhaegar turned towards his son,.

“My past, our past it can never be satisfied with a blanketed apology. I am sorry, Aegon. I acknowledge that my decisions and movements nearly led to your death. I can’t unknow that or rewrite what could have been no matter how many times I am encouraged to do so.”

“Encouraged by whom? Connington. I guess it’s a Hand’s job to tell a King what he wants to hear. He did that for my grandfather and for you. Look how well that turned out to be. The man is a menace and you don’t even see it.”

A gruff chuckle pushed forth. His son wasn’t to off the mark regarding Jon. He is good for Rhaegar. He’s not a bad man, but he is a difficult one. 

“Jon isn’t as bad as he seems, though you might be right...he has done this job for a long time. Perhaps he would like to move on...away from all of this. Very few can escape this place and the duty that comes with maintaining it.”

Taking another deep breath, Rhaegar continues.

“I am...sorry, but its more than that. Unless asked I do not feel as though I have permission to share those parts of myself...not when I have to consider the injured party I may be addressing.”

“Well I am asking. Tell me what I don’t know, Father.”

“I have regrets for all of it, you, your mother, your sisters, your brothers, Lyanna...her family, the men who fought and died, the women who found themselves without husbands and children without fathers. It is not just one person or one thing Aegon. I have to say it is the remorse that is the worst. Add it together with guilt plus shame and I find it hard to get up and face the world.”

“You make it seem easy.”

A dark laugh followed by a shaking of his head. 

“What choice to I have Aegon? Do I continue as I once was? Is that the right way to be or act? I can’t say I agree with that. I didn’t do as I should have, but once I was made aware I swore to always do better when I could.”

Aegon looked over at Rhaegar, those eyes measuring. 

“You always seem to know how to say the right things. It makes it hard to rally against you for too long.”

A bird landed on the bench that stood about ten meters away. Watching the creature twist and turn its head broke the rising tension between father and son. 

“We can’t continue as we are, Father. I’m sorry that I will have to let you down. I can’t do this. I can’t be what you wanted. I won’t marry Lady Margaery or any young woman of your choosing. If you were a different father, if things were different between us...if our past wasn’t our past, then I would do my duty without question. Context matters and on this topic I cannot concede.”

Aegon stared at his long fingers. His deep swallow unmistakable to Rhaegar. A tell he has himself...one that he displays before bestowing harsh words...not to antagonize but to drive a point forward. 

“I wish I could say I am proud to be your son, but I am not. You can’t have everything in the end. You can have your regret and remorse, but if my siblings and I have to live our lives silently paying for your decisions then you are still compounding the past. Who will we have to owe moving forward? You show repentance for what your actions wrought the realm, but I do not see it bestowed to my mother or your children.”

“I cannot undo my other marriage Aegon. I can’t make that family any less. It’s no fairer to them than it was to you.”

“No, while I hate to agree, to a certain degree you are right. I cannot be like you. I won’t walk the path placed before me without question...especially if I do not think I can walk it faithfully. I will not marry Lady Margaery. Set me aside if you must. Perhaps it would be best. I do not care which son you give the bloody Crown to. I will go back to Dorne and I shall stay there forever, and once again your realm will forget my existence.” 

Aegon rose and stood before Rhaegar. All Rhaegar heard was _“I will go back to Dorne and I shall stay there forever...”_. The thought of his son disappearing from his life once again doused the fire in his soul. That coldness that had taken root after he thought them dead...the similar frost began to bloom within. No...losing his son again was not an option.

“I will make my own life there with woman I already hold dear in my heart...assuming she will forgive me for my foolishness in leaving her in the first place.”

“A woman. You will walk away from being the Crown Prince because of your love for a woman.” 

As soon as Rhaegar spoke the words he knew it was a mistake. He was just so surprised, as Aegon never gave him an indication that he felt so passionately for another.

Unadulterated fury shone in Aegon’s eyes. Rhaegar rose to stand. 

“You walked away for same didn’t you. At least I am not married with a family in tow. My decision to walk away leaves the realm safe and intact. I intend to practice fidelity with her, and our children be the only ones I’ll ever have.”

“You misunderstand my words. I was merely surprised is all. You’ve never mentioned anyone before. Are you sure you want to take this course? It does not seem wise, Aegon.”

“You are not allowed judgement on this decision. If you want me to be Crown Prince then I can only do this with her by my side. If you insist on Lady Margaery, then find another son to take on that punishment. It will not be me.”

Aegon walked past Rhaegar and to the door before turning back. 

“I will not beg nor plead for my birthright. I understand and accept what stepping aside means. I did not share my thoughts in an effort to resist you or your demands. I am not a child nor am I that selfish; but I do know my limitations. I could be a good king, but I can’t be a good one without her.”

Rhaegar wanted to shake his son. He once thought himself in love with Lyanna...long before he truly knew her. He wanted Aegon to understand that a king wasn’t guaranteed the good love of a woman, but that in time if he were lucky, he could build it. The ideals of the young did not always translate well when one is a King. Then what did he know. For years he had the love of a good woman in Elia and hadn’t saw it until it was gone. Maybe Aegon would be different. 

The younger man cleared his voice before continuing. 

“I also can’t ignore the commitments you have made in good faith for your people...for this realm. Your word as a King means something. I can respect that. I have shared with you my position, and you have a decision to make regarding it. I will abide your choice either way.”

Aegon left before Rhaegar could respond. He turned back to the garden and resumed his seat on the steps. The King in him was angry that Aegon would not bend, that he would not fall easily into his duty. The father though...he could not find much blame in his son’s position. Though his head tells him he should not let it, the father in him undermines the king; leaving Rhaegar sitting alone in turmoil with his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if the chapter seems jumpy...we're moving between conversations in the present time and past conversations Rhaegar is recalling in present time. 
> 
> Viserys + Rhaenys are in present time.  
> Jaehaerys + Aegon are past conversations being recalled in present time.
> 
> We continue with Aemon as a recollection in the next chapter...


	14. Interlude V: A King with Songs of His Own (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar examines his relationships with his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried something different with this chapter and I am not completely sold on whether I liked this approach, but it's written and I am gonna go with it. Each scene/interaction is prompted by a specific song:
> 
> -Aemon: Sometime You Can’t Make it on Your Own by U2  
> -Visenya:Wonder by Natalie Merchant  
> -Daeron: Crumbs from your Table by U2  
> -Rhaegar: To Leave Something Behind by Sean Rowe
> 
> If you're not familiar with these songs, then check them out. You should find connections between the songs and the scenes.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> P.S. Still sorry that this was so long...lol.

A fluttering of noise coming from his desk pulls Rhaegar out of his reverie. He noticed that the light breeze blew a piece of parchment on to the ground. Standing, he stretches is muscles...letting bones pop. Bending over, Rhaegar recognizes the handwriting on the paper. 

Aemon.

The letter was just a notice that he and the Lady of Storm’s End were awaiting the Crown’s visit. Rhaegar tries to see what his son is trying to truly tell him under the guise of polite words. This son, he is like an enigma to Rhaegar, but to his son...he sees much of Rhaegar in himself. A chilling thought.

The last time they spoke, Aemon approached him with a solution regarding the Tyrells and the marriage pact. He was willing to take up the mantle of Crown Prince and then King, if it meant that the agreement could be honored; leaving his brothers to follow their own paths without disrupting the realm. 

“It would not be the first choice for myself, but it isn’t so distasteful I feel the need to stand against the idea.”

“So you would marry Lady Margaery, in expectation of the Crown or no.”

“Is marrying her without the expectation of the Crown an option?”

Rhaegar sighs deeply as he considers the son seated before him. 

“Possibly. Our agreement only states a Prince...not which prince.”

Rhaegar noticed a sly smile pulled at Aemon’s lips before he took a sip of Riverland red.

“So, marry the Lady to a lesser prince. While I am fine with the arrangement; between us I am not sure the Tyrells will appreciate it.”

Rhaegar grunted in agreement. 

“I think your suggestion has much merit Aegon. It is the practical choice.”

“But you’d rather it be Aegon or Jaehaerys.”

“Aemon...”

“There is no need to explain yourself Father. My feelings are not so easily bruised. Either one of my older brothers would be a good choice...though I do think one is better suited than the other for the task in the long run.” 

Rhaegar considered the young man seated before him. He had the coloring of the Starks and the long face they are known for. His mind is clever, much like his mother, Rhaegar thinks...but Aemon is sly...underhandedly so. That is not Lyanna’s way, but rather more in line with his own character. 

“I feel as though I must. You and I haven’t had the easiest of relationships, Aemon. I acknowledge that. On the surface it seems like we are too different, so understanding of each other is harder to come by. I may not like nor agree with the way you conduct yourself in your personal _affairs_ , but no one can never claim that you are not a dutiful son.”

The younger man sent him a smirk, and it had the power it always had...it set Rhaegar’s teeth on edge.

“You know you don't have to put up a fight. You don't have to always be right. I am what I am and there is a part of that which is distasteful to you. It bothers me little that you have such regards, for I am confident I know where it comes from. I think you are unaware of its source...which leads us to the stalemate we always seem to find ourselves in.”

“If we are alone in the same chamber, then it would not take long for us to be in some quarrel. There is truth to that, but you are my son. I do not want you to think I disapprove of who you are to me.”

Rhaegar didn’t see this conversation ending well. He and Aemon...they were more alike than he would like to admit. He had all of the negative aspects of Rhaegar’s personality. The aspects that he must work diligently at monitoring. They both were entitled, apathetic, selfish, callous, reckless, chaotic, stubborn, calculated, ruthless, spiteful, and vengeful. If Rhaegar allowed himself to then then the list would continue. Thank the Gods Lyanna’s influence is powerful with this one. 

“Perhaps you should listen to me now. I am clear in my purpose here. I need to let you know that you don't have to go it alone with the Tyrells. I know that the succession is an issue. All I am saying is I accept that you may have to use me, and you will gain no resistance from me in that respect.”

“Do you understand what you are saying. You will be in their line of sight. They...that family can be a bit much.”

Downing the last of his drink, Aemon chuckled...nodding to his father to refill his cup. 

“Let me take some of the punches. I think I can handle them.”

“Handle being the operative word, Aem. They will try to control you.”

“Do you see them gaining success in that arena?”

Rhaegar considered his fifth child; all that he knows of the boy he raised to man. He shakes his own head for he thinks his son might have the right of it. In fact, Rhaegar thinks that perhaps he should send the Tyrell a basket of the best Eyrie ale as a preemptive apology. 

A smile burgeoning on his own face, Rhaegar smirk appears...an exact replica of the one his son had demonstrated not but moments ago. 

“No, I do not.”

They sat in comfortable silence, both sipping the cool drink which Rhaegar knew to be his son’s favorite. 

“Father sometimes you can’t make it on your own. I know you keep much from us and I get why. I understand why one keeps pressures to oneself. This though...it’s not something you can manage without assistance.” 

In all his years of fatherhood, he has never heard one of his children attempt to speak to him from Rhaegar’s perspective. 

“I know what you did after your returned from the Usurpers War.”

Rhaegar’s body tightened. Never has he ever spoken to his children about that time. He decreed that they received a sanitized version of the events for he knew he couldn’t outright ignore it. 

“I know you are capable of making hard choices. I am not like my other brothers...or my sisters. I don't have a life path I feel I need to advocate for. I do not have my own schema. No, that’s not accurate. My only agenda is that our family does not fall. I can set aside my own desires for I do not think they are that different from yours. I might even argue that we might be of the same soul, so let me stand beside you.”

He wanted to take this branch from his son, but doesn’t a father protect his child. Hadn’t he done such a spectacularly poor job before. The wise thing would be to arm his children with as much information as he could so that they could be prepared for this world...the politics of it all...before the Stranger comes for his hand. 

Rhaegar gestures towards his son. The lines that held the young man appeared to loosen. Had Rhaegar’s assent or acquiescence meant that much to the son who never appeared to require nor desire his approval before...or is this the first time he has noticed. He isn’t sure which is worse; is it’s a terrible thing for a father to be unable to answer such a question...or that such a question exist. 

That is something else for him to ponder in private and over a long period of time, he thinks. 

“Very well. It would be of great value to me as your King if you would pursue Lady Margaery’s hand. I have not changed the order of succession, but I do not think I can leave it as it is for long.”

“There is no other way for Aegon to stay. He truly will not marry her.” Aemon’s brow lowered...reminding Rhaegar of his own expression.

“He won’t. Your brother is very clear on who he will share the Crown with. He will accept the loss of it, and support the brother who is to claim it. Unless matters change, I do not see any other way to move forward without replacing Aegon. Are you sure you are prepared for the responsibility that comes with the role?”

A look on unease barely settled onto his son’s face before all traces of it were gone.

“I will accept it should there be no other option, Father. But if matters do change then I’d prefer to agree to the marriage and nothing else.”

Rhaegar sat back and looked at the young man before him. How he wished he had been this mature when his own father sat him down and told him of his duty to marry. As all his sons prepare to find marriages of their own he realizes they are already superior men than he was at their ages. It’s a bittersweet day when a father recognizes that his sons are better versions of himself.

*****

A firm knock and the stoic voice of Ser Arthur jolted Rhaegar to the present. In less than a day his Queens, his children...his family...were to leave the castle to send a message of sorts their respective audiences.

“Your Grace. Princess Visenya has arrived as you requested.”

Ah yes. Visenya. He had asked to meet with her. She was traveling with her stepmother for Storm’s End. Rhaegar wanted to makes sure she was comfortable with the task. He knew it was much to ask of her; especially when he could have sent her with her mother. 

“Thank you, Arthur.” 

Rhaegar watched as a young woman garbed in a red and yellow Dornish styled dress with gold circlet adorning her silver-blonde hair entered his solar. She was a beauty...Valyrian and Dornish...and yet something entirely all herself. His breath always seem to get caught when he saw her. The daughter he had foreseen and forsaken. 

Many will say it was his father who started the war. Others will say Rhaegar and Lyanna’s behavior incited it. The truth lies somewhere in between for most people. But for him...he took up arms against Robert and Eddard not because his father demanded it.

No, Rhaegar didn’t try to speak sense to his father. No, Rhaegar waged a war to guarantee that she would live...that she would come into this world. What he hadn’t known was to whom she would be born from. While he fought to keep Lya safe, he left Elia unprotected. In the end he worked against his own efforts, and yet, she still managed to survive. She was still here despite incredible odds. 

“Father.” Her hands outstretched to reach his. A tactile creature...much like her Mother who enjoys exploring assorted textiles in her dress, the décor of her chambers. She is also very observant. Her brow creased. 

“What’s wrong?”

Rhaegar lowers to place a gentle kiss on her forehead; to offer affection and to dismiss her concern. The thoughts that weigh him are not for her. 

“I am fine my child.”

“No, you are not. Well I guess you look pleasing enough to the average man, but I am your daughter. I see you a bit clearer than that. What bothers you? This morning you seemed much more at peace than you do now...and I must say this morning’s gathering would have had you more unease than you are now. What has happened between then to bring on such a mood?” Her violet eyes narrow making her look much like her grandmother did...when she sent him an admonishing look as a child. 

The King in him didn’t like how clearly she saw through his facades, but the father...there was warmth and healing in his heart of her awareness of him. It doesn’t come because she fears he will disappoint her as with Rhaenys. He is acutely aware of how different his relationships are with his daughters.

“It has been a long day. Many emotions are present at the moment. That can take its toll on a person who is known to think too much.” Rhaegar smirks at a jest they share regarding his propensity for thinking too often and engaging in less dry pursuits to counter. 

“Come away with me. If you have no reason to remain in this keep right now, then let’s ride...into the Kingswood.”

“Now! Without notice.”

“Father you are the King; your word is the notice. Besides the Kingswoods are not very far...just a quick ride there and back.” 

She dipped her head to catch his eye...a familiar gleam in them. “The fresh air might clear you mind...lift your spirits.”

Rhaegar consider her request. Rarely did he ever break away from his routine. Even when the boys were young, their time together was planned in advance...frequent, but still scheduled. When his children from Elia returned, he made it a point to keep time in his day open for them and in the beginning they took him up on his offer of time. Now they have settled into their lives here, and yet, this slip of a young woman is probably the only person...other than his Queens...who could get him to leave the castle in the middle of the day. 

“Connington will not approve.”

“Hmmm...tis alright. I don’t approval of Connington. It’s a mutual understanding. Now change and meet me at the stable in twenty minutes, Father.”

“Twenty minutes. It might take me twenty minutes to inform Jon.”

“Well might I suggest you send him a message. He’d have to reach you before we departed...he could catch you at the stables.” A sly smirked adorned her face and Rhaegar had to steel himself from responding in kind. 

“Very well. I will see you shortly.”

Once his daughter had closed the door behind him, Rhaegar couldn’t contain the laughter that bubbled forth. She was a whip that one. Gods what she must have been like a child. Elia knew...Ser Jaime knew. It bled him often...that knowledge that the knight who saved them also had a hand in seeing to how they grew. Rhaegar couldn’t claim that privilege and that awareness burned.

With a sigh he called in Ser Arthur and set to change so that he could spend a spot of time with his daughter. Within the hour he had escaped...no Kings do not escape their homes...he departed with nary a word from Jon nor Arthur. 

They had ridden long and hard. His daughter was one with her beast. Her body moving in tandem as she rode the horse as though the Stranger was behind her. She turned to him, her hair now braided laid across her back, her eyes sparkling. Visenya nudged her steed faster and Rhaegar could not help but accept her silent challenge, and together they rode with his Kingsguard attempting to keep pace. 

At some point they stopped to rest their horses and themselves. Flask of water passed between them. Rhaegar sits against a tree as he watches Visenya reach for the bow she brought with her. Her long finger touches her mouth as she signals to the men to quiet down. 

All eyes are on her now, Rhaegar notes. He too mesmerized by her odd behavior. She silently pulls an arrow from its quiver. She sets the arrow, glides her arm back holding the projectile taunt against the string. Her body is unmoving. The forest is still and silent...until she released the arrow. The sound of the shaft tearing flesh and the dull thud of the kill falling to the ground was all that could be heard. 

She looked like a warrior in that moment. He suppose in her own way, she was. Visenya lowered her arms and placed her tools away. The guards went to secure her gains but she waved them off. Pulling a rope out of her saddlebag, she began walking in the direction of her game. Rhaegar followed. 

“What did you see?”

“Two pheasants.”

“Any reason why we would need two pheasants?” Rhaegar smiled down at her. 

They made it to the birds in question, and as she saw two laid dead with one arrow pierced between them. 

“We passed a village of smallfolk on our way here. That man was kind to let us refill our tankards with water. I thought perhaps he would like a gift of thanks when we pass on back.”

When he travels through the woods, he always stops by that village. He always ensures they are left with some coin for they are hospitable, but they are poor. It touched him that his daughter thought to gift them for their actions with more than a word of thanks. He leaves them coin for them to spend it on what they need. She leaves them food to nourish themselves in that moment. 

Rhaegar wonders why at times he feels so connected to this particular child. He watches as she makes quick time of tying the birds together. She uses a blade she keeps hidden inside her boot to cut off the excess rope. Noticing the blood on her hands, Rhaegar pour some of the water from his own flask onto her hands until the blood washed away. They rose and she began to walk back. 

“I say this with all the love in my heart, dear girl, but you are a wonder to me, Visenya.”

He is not sure what moved him to say this. All he knew was that it was true. 

“You are not the first to say such things.”

Rhaegar laughed. 

“It’s good to see your ego is intact and unbruised. Hmmm...my gift to you no doubt.”

His daughter laughed back. 

“No. I tell you the truth. Shortly after I was born and we arrived in Dorne. Mother was in a state, they thought her near death.”

The laughter gone. The uncomfortable tension present.

“Uncle Doran sought all types healers to help her. He prayed to whatever Gods he could to see her through. One of those healers was an Orphan of the Greenblood...a priestess of sorts, she was the first one to call me _a Wonder_.”

Rhaegar smiled warmly at his daughter.

“Did they ever tell you why she called you such a thing?”

“She said she believed fate smiled upon me, and destiny laughed as she came to my cradle. She said know this child will be able. Apparently she laughed as my body she lifted, and said know this child will be gifted with love, with patience, and with faith.”

Visenya stopped walking and so did he. They stood facing each other. 

“I guess on some level I think she was right. Whether letters, hunting, or sparring learning a skill has always come relatively easy to me...making me very capable.” She held up the dead birds, and shrugged her shoulders.

They both resumed their return. “I was raised knowing I was very much loved. So, I find a person goes farther in their own happiness when they bestow love, patience, and faith on others...even if others might not deserve it.” 

“As one who feels like they are a recipient of such affection, I do believe your way of thinking is not typical. Unless one chooses to take the Faith.”

Visenya’s violet eyes widened, her face bright as she laughed at the idea, he thought. Her a septa. Never. 

“I guess I am used to circumventing others misconceptions about me. I am a challenge to your balance; of that I know. There is no real explanation for me to be as well-adjusted as I am truth be told. I guess I must be one of the God’s own peculiar creations.”

“I would like to think you were the last bit of goodness in the old me. The last of what your mother and I once were before it all changed.”

Rhaegar felt Visenya warm hand clasps his. 

“Perhaps I am. It’s a beautiful way to think of it I suppose.”

“I know you suggested Ser Humfrey Hightower as a marriage match. You have said very little since my announcement that I would approval the application.”

“What is there to say? He has penned me several meaningful letters. As I said previously, I think we could be good.”

This time Rhaegar stopped their progression. He rose a hand to cup her lovely face. Rhaegar bent his head to ensure he would see her eyes. Visenya’s eyes spoke volumes he learned.

“He seems like a nice young man, Daughter. Marriage, I know, it is harder on a woman since she must leave her family to enter his. My hope is that our alliance with the Hightower sets such improvement on our current relationship that you are treated very well. I do not wish you to suffer as your mother had...nor Lyanna.”

He felt rather than saw her hands-on top of his. 

“The healer told Mother two more things and I always carry them close to my heart. As she laughed she told mother, _know this child will not suffer._ So do not worry, for I do not.”

Visenya walked away from him leaving him slightly curious as to why she finds ease believing the words like a septon believes a prophecy. Such a dangerous slippery slope he laments. Then he remembers she had not told him the second prediction. 

“And the other?”

She turns to him and in her smile he sees himself, but her expression that was pure Elia...once again breath stolen by the beauty before him. 

“She said not to worry about me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “She’ll make her way.”

Her laughter rang out into the forest as she continued to meet up with her mount. He shook his head as he laughed. Ah, the confidence of youth, he thought. As Rhaegar proceeded to catch up with his youngest daughter, he had a feeling that out of all his children, Visenya might be the one he should be the least concerned with.

*****

The day was a long one indeed, but it was not done. After turning from their ride, Rhaegar with much haste bathed and dressed so that the family could share a meal before many of them left the next morning.

His family.

What sat before him was more than he ever thought he would have, and it is nothing that he truly deserves, yet he has them all the same...to some varying degree. As he watches brothers talk to brothers and sisters speak with uncles, and wives discuss matters before him. Rhaegar observes all, and it seems as though Daeron sees much as well as their eyes collide.

The look in them is what sent Rhaegar in search of his son instead of spending the evening speak with his wives before they left. He shared his need to speak with his son, and each woman gave him a look or a gesture of understanding...but he didn’t want them thinking that he didn’t want to share a private goodbye. 

Though it was late, he knew his son enjoyed going to the sparring dummy in the training yards. He was sure it would be there he’d find him. The steady hard whacking sounds alerted him of his son’s location. As he stood a fair distance behind him, he called out and waited.”

“Daeron.” 

His son hadn’t turned. Doublet and tunic lost long ago. Back bathed in sweat, shoulders heaving with breath. 

“What can I do for you _your Grace_?” His youngest turned. A man of eight and ten...almost nine. The expression on his face spoke volumes.

“Have I done anything to offend my son?”

Daeron’s dark laughter sounded more like a snake slithering about them than a dragon or a wolf. 

“Would you truly care to listen if you had?”

“Daeron! You know it has been a very trying...”

“Two years...”

“...day.” Rhaegar took a deep breath. Searching for patience he felt he didn’t have. How had it come to this? That he had little in reserve for a conversation with his son. 

“My whole life I found that all your days were trying. I am not sure what brought you out to find me on this one.”

“You are angry with me. Is it because I am sending you with Elia? Your mother and Elia assured me that you got along well. Were they wrong?”

The wolf...yes, the wolf...scoffed at him. 

“No, my problem is not with Queen Elia. I find her to be a delight...clever with a bawdy wit. Though one might consider why you don’t know if Elia and I get along. But then there is very little you know when it pertains to me.”

Rhaegar stepped back as though his son had slapped him. 

“That is not true. Just because I sought confirmation doesn’t mean I was unawares.”

“Do you need such confirmations about Aeg or Jae? Your firstborns...I would think not. You need none from Aem or Vissy because they always find a way to spew their thoughts and feelings whether you want to hear it or not. They are quite good at that I find.”

Dazed by this son’s tone, Rhaegar watched as the young man returned the training sword before reaching for his tunic.

“I imagine you know a bit more about Rhaenys because her wedding is on the horizon...and if there is something she wants you to know then she’ll find you to make her feelings known. But me...you have no cause to know anything about me. I do not seek out and you do not seek out me. So, why are you here Father?”

“I thought to _seek out_ my son because your eyes called out to me. I thought you need something...perhaps you had need of me.”

The hot wolf-blood seeped out and into the night sky, Daeron sighed heavily, his head bowed low before he looked at Rhaegar. A much calmer affect before him. 

“I want nothing from you Father.”

“Are you angered by the Riverland match? Is this an issue of you _not_ wanting to marry Lady Eleanor?”

“Marrying Lady Eleanor is not the issue. I will marry into the Riverlands. It is my duty and the girl is sweet and lovely. It will be no hardship on my end.”

“If that is not the problem, then is your anger as simple as I not having enough time for you. I call that unfair. I have always had time for you and your brothers long before my other children returned. Siblings I thought you liked.”

“I don’t like them. I love them. I will stand by Aegon. I agree with Jae and Aem. He will be the kind of king the realm needs after you are gone. As for Rhae and Vissy, I’d slay any man who would harm my sisters...assuming they left anything for me to kill.”

Rhaegar found himself walking towards his son. Anger and hurt blurred in the color of his Stark gray eyes. He could not ignore it. 

“You my Father have made so many choices all wrapped up in signs and wonders. You’ve broken my mother’s heart in your pursuit to reclaim Elia’s, but then you broke Elia’s heart to claim my mother’s. They have no recourse but to stay to concede to your words of apology and regret. They get pieces of you, my siblings and I...we all get pieces of you; yet you expect unfettered access to all parts of us. It must be good to be King, I guess.”

Daeron cleared his throat, shaking his head and Rhaegar remained stupefied. _“...we all get pieces of you and yet you expect unfettered access to all parts of us. It’s good to be King, I guess.”_

“My whole life I felt you only bothered with me when you had crumbs of time. Now you are asking for so much, and should this go wrong..." The young man's voice deep and hoarse. 

"I find myself wondering why I should grant my submission to you.”

Rhaegar knew he had to speak, and once again the words he knew would fail him rose once again.

“My past Daeron should serve as a cautionary tale for any young prince. It is not something to glorify. It is not something I find fame in. It’s my crowing shame that I must wear along with this crown of gold.” Rhaegar took off his crown and looked at it and considered. “Unlike this crown, I can never remove it. Never think I am unacquainted with myself, Daeron. I know who I am.” 

Daeron’s eyes tracked Rhaegar’s moves cautiously. Rhaegar sat on a bench, resting his forearms on his knees, head down low.

“I will not lie and tell you that my being king does not limit the recourses my family can take towards me. But know that just because my wives and children do not walk out these doors to leave me here to rot does not mean I am naïve to think that you don’t want to, or what it cost you to stay here to be present in this family.”

“You are asking a lot of us Father. I do not know you to be a scheming man. I want to be sure that this plan is truly about protecting our family in the context of this reality and it’s not some ploy to move us in the direction of your prophecies. Are they truly dead?”

Rhaegar’s head shot up. Eyes-wide. He put away those foolish toys long ago. Prophecy...no, this wasn’t about that, this was about protecting their House and ensuring that Houses kept their word. 

“Why would you say that? Why would you bring it up?”

“You look at me like I am mad, yet remember how it all began Father. I dare to say it because nobody has. The issues with the Tyrells and Lord Renly didn’t appear when you conveniently had 3 prophecy-less sons. NO! It’s happening now, when we have a real-life Aegon...complete with a Rhaenys and Visenya and potential dra...”

Daeron’s eyes widened and he turned with a frustrated yell. The sound catching Arthur's attention; Rhaegar quietly gestured for his man to stand down. 

“Potential what?”

“I misspoke...they have the potential to drag us back to the days of prophecies.”

Rhaegar considered his son’s argument. He is right. Aside from Elia and Visenya, no one has ever mentioned the prophecies to him, but those conversations have always been about the past...not the present. In truth he has done is hardest to discourage such any and all prophecy-related conversations. Daeron has cause to be concerned. Rhaegar’s past has established that. 

“This is not about the prophecies Daeron. It is as your mother and Elia explained it this morning. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If I find out that you are lying; that you are back to seeking to resurrect your prophecies, then do I have your permission to dispatch you. For only madness can come from this, Father. If you do not want to end up mad like grandfather, do I have your permission.”

Rhaegar considered his son. Kingslaying and kinslaying were acts of high treason. If he went down the road of prophecy well then he deserved death...he earned that fate, but his son...no Rhaegar would not want that for him. The weight of a son killing a father, even if it was warranted. would not be his son's fate if he could help it. No not his son.

“Well if I say yes, then I can take steps to remove you and if I have taken that turn then in my madness I probably won’t care. So, let’s agree to this instead. If I fall to the wayside with dreams of prophecies leave me be, but if I begin to act on them...if madness comes Dae and you can get two of your siblings to agree then yes. Be clever though. Do not do it yourselves, and make sure I never see it coming.”

“Seriously. You agreed.” Daeron sat on the bench. Shock etched across his face. 

“I know madness son. I know what it looks on a father. I know how it turns on the son. I give your siblings the permission to do what I could not. Be better than me. Do better for the realm.”

Daeron’s eyes now reflected understanding. A weary smile pulled at his mouth. 

“So, who do you think would be an easy sell?”

Rhaegar considered his children and Dae’s question. 

“Rhaenys and Aemon, Aegon and Jae would be on the fence, I think.”

“Vissy...”

“I suppose if I was too far gone, but if possible I’d like her spared from the decision.”

Daeron scoffed and Rhaegar found his brow hiked in question.

“Looks like Jae and Aeg owe me 3 gold dragons.”

“What for?”

“We had a bit of a side wager on who would be your favorite.”

“Dae, I have no...”

“Yes, yes, yes, you have no favorites...blah, blah, blah.”

Rhaegar felt a twitch in his lips.

“Why do you think it is Visenya?”

“Interesting. I hadn’t said it was Vissy.”

Rhaegar shook his head. Rising up, Daeron pulled on his doublet. Standing behind Rhaegar, he rested his hands on his father’s shoulders as he whispered in his ear. 

“I knew because once I saw her I figured she’d hate you less. I mean you did fight a war for her. I’d say on a scale of grand gestures it’s like one of the biggest things one can do. 

He felt Daeron pat his shoulders before pushing away from Rhaegar. 

“Goodnight Son. I will see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight Father.”

Rhaegar sat on that bench for a long time wondering if there had ever been a time in his life when managing relationships with others was so hard, and then he wondered if he was always just poor at it.

*****

When Rhaegar returned to his rooms, he was surprised to learn from one of his Kingsguard that a visitor awaited him in his chamber. The last person he had expected to see in his antechamber would have been his brother. After their conversation that morning he thought those might have been the last words shared between them before he left.

“Viserys it is late, Brother.”

The man before his looked slightly uncomfortable. 

“I am aware. I had wanted to catch you after the evening meal, but you were intent of following Daeron so I held my tongue.”

“I thank you for that. My son and I had a much long overdue conversation.”

“Do you feel like that often? That there is something you left unsaid or left too much time with matters unresolved.”

Rhaegar considered his brothers question and found that answer to be somewhere in between. Mentally and emotionally overdrawn Rhaegar moved to gather a tankard of wine and two cups before gesturing for his brother to join him out on the balcony.

The moon sat high in the night sky. At this point it might be too late to see his wives. Perhaps they would understand once he explains his day, but then he wonders if they care to hear his reasonings for not showing his face earlier. Damned if you do and damned if you don’t, he thought. 

“Truth. All the time, Viserys. It also doesn’t help that my words fall on closed ears most times.”

“You do realize they are closed because of you.”

“Yes. I am aware. Rest assured there are plenty of people who feel the need to remind me...often. We all must take responsibilities for our choices and the actions that manifest from those decisions. What I did...I do not try to justify. I explain, but justify...those days have long died." 

Rhaegar drinks his wine in one long swallow. Violet eyes tracking his movement but saying nothing.

"Every day since I have tried to be better than I once was. I like to think decades of being a good man and a good king has brought me some grace, and it has...just less than I would have thought. In the end we must all take responsibility for our choices...and if those ears choose to stay closed when their eyes show them a different path, well they will have to accept the consequences for their own decisions.”

“Rhaegar...what you did...what we survived...it altered something within us. I cannot speak for others, but I know I have not grown straight. My roots are gnarled and deformed. On the surface I seem...untouched. Those of us who lived it...I think we are very similar in that regard. It is hard to trust regardless of what the eyes now see.”

Watching his only brother, Rhaegar stilled, for Viserys has never spoken of his feelings about the past in such a personal way. Rhaegar was not blind to Viserys struggle to find normalcy in a post-war Westeros. The only detailed account he had of his brother’s adjustments and the challenges he struggled with came from their mother...not the boy or the man himself. 

He wasn’t oblivious to Viserys concerns. 

With a deep sigh and a weary voice, he whispered, “I know Viserys.”

“What now Rhaegar? We leave in the morning, and I will go and represent my family, but what then. What is this sojourn supposed to be? What is the conclusion of all of this?”

“When I was a younger man I listened to the books and the scrolls that spoke of prophecies and destiny. I was willing to go to the ends of the world for it. In the end I had thought it was about me saving the world in some capacity. If not directly, then through my blood.”

Rhaegar refilled his cup. He decided to think less about his next words and spoke from the deepest part of himself.

“I listened to so many people and thought that maybe I had heard the wrong voices, and chose to just listen to the ones that served my self-interest best. In the end I had lost more than I thought possible. While I said I would be willing to sacrifice everything, I had no idea what that truly meant. My sheltered existence turned me into a boy spouting my suppositions like I was a seasoned man, but I was a greenboy without a man’s understanding of the world and its consequences.”

“But I learned Viserys. In the most appalling ways possible. It wasn’t one event or experience, but rather a multitude of them coming from all directions. Many thought me mad for fleeing with Lyanna, but that was stupidity brother, not madness...afterward though...”

Viserys face was lined and brows furrowed. Rhaegar imagined he had a similar expression. Gods it surely felt like he did. An exhaustive guilt and self-torment that could no longer hide behind a facade of stoicism. 

“In hindsight I wonder why I didn’t continue on the trajectory of madness. I was right there...hovering over the precipice. Just one more push...a feathered touch...and into the abyss of insanity I would have fallen.”

“But you hadn’t fallen?”

“No...not that way. I learned that life, real life for the people our family sought to rule but cared very little for, was almost unbearable for most. Basic needs like shelter and food was harder to find than it should have been. Coin could only be found in the coffers of the Crown and its courtiers, and none to be located among those who needed it most...the families we lord over and sacrifice for our whims.”

“It shook something inside of me to note that our future was already broken and dead, for look at how we treated the present. It was then I had decided to leave something behind. I have learned to be weary of those who speak to loudly about matters that line their family wealth at the expense of the realm. I have learned to live in the present, so that I could help improve it.”

“It is my fear that I would lose my soul if I allow the Houses to dictate how the realm should work. Not all are equitable or fair. Minor Houses might feel warmly, but the smallfolk...the common man...they would suffer greatly if I wasn’t mindful. I do not think I would have cared enough on that point when I was younger...before the war...before losing Elia and the children.”

“In the end I am just a man, Viserys. A king, yes, but a king is still a man. I am nothing more than that. I am not infallible. I too can get through a wall, if you give me a door. It only serves our personal self-interest to think ourselves more than that. That is why our family history is full of good and bad kings...because they were filled with good men and bad men...and some that rest in between.”

The younger man stood before Rhaegar. He had to push himself back against his chair to meet his brother’s eyes from his great height. They both released deep sighs...breaths that carried heavy loads. Loads they must carry alone.

“Where do you fall, Brother?” The somber voice asked.

Rhaegar thought about his life and the path he has traveled thus far. He considers the people who had come into it and shaped it. He reflects on the people he has lost or who are lost to him. He quickly contemplates the imprint he has left on the people in his life on the realm he was expected to rule...to lead. He ponders how he has changed, regardless of what others might think...he studies what he know of himself and he recognizes where his acts fall on a continuum of choice and consequences. 

Meeting his brother’s eyes...violet to indigo. He shrugged his shoulders in gesture of optimism.

“My only hope after all of this is said and done, at the end of my journey...that my children, my family, will consider the totality of my life, and know what I meant...and perhaps they, and those that come after, might see some redemption in me after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if the chapter seems jumpy...we're moving between conversations in the present time and past conversations Rhaegar is recalling in present time.
> 
> Aemon is a past conversations being recalled in present time.  
> Visenya + Daeron are in present time.
> 
> Bracing myself here...lol. Either way I hope you enjoyed it even if it doesn't feel as well written or cohesive as other chapters.
> 
> Coming up next: The Queens arrive...and some Ashara and Lia time :)


	15. Peripeteia: (n) the sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances; the point of no return (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tyrells are met with by the Queens. Ashara and Lia discuss what having Ned back means for Ashara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer #1: I do not own these characters.
> 
> Disclaimer #2: This chapter is M for Mature...and I apologize in advance that smut, while I love to read, is NOT MY STRENGTH...but it fit so perfectly in the story...lol. If mature content is what you'd like to avoid, then I have bolded where then scene begins and where it ends. It starts with... **"Just as her feet touched the floor..."**.
> 
> FYI 1, the Queens interactions with the Tyrells are told from Dany's POV and Ned's POV.  
> FYI 2, the chapter was too long so I split it...but I am publishing both parts at the same time.

Three weeks have passed since Daenerys’s good-sister and family arrived at Storm’s End; a fortnight since her husband killed himself. The seas were turbulent after Lyanna’s arrival. He normally would not have gone out; this she knows. His favorite rowing boat overturned out at sea, his bloated body lodge against the huge rocks that surround the keep. He had drowned...and Dany was positive it was of his own volition. 

Today was the day Lyanna would speak with the Tyrell’s. Daenerys needed to get out of bed. The effort to do so was exhaustive. The thought alone caused her to fall deep inside herself. Dany pressed her lids tightly shut as she thought about the empty space within her. 

As hurt and angry as she was at Renly, she had not expected that he would take his life...that he would choose a self-imposed death than a strained life with her. How does she begin to process this? _Death was preferable to a life with her._

Her family meant well. Her mother, Lyanna...they blamed his selfishness and weakness. Aemon attributed Renly death to cowardice. 

Visenya ascribed the loss to fear...the fear of what was to come...and her words gently offered Dany more comfort than she had expected.

_“Perhaps it was a combination of all their thoughts, Daenerys. Only Renly could confirm. I imagine there is some element of truth to what Grandmother, Lyanna, and Aemon have said. But consider for a moment the amount of fear that must have flooded him when he saw our arrival. The fear of the unknown...of what was to come”_

_Dany’s voice sounded hoarse to her own ears. “He didn’t even remain present long enough to listen to Lyanna...to listen to my brother’s proposal. You were here only a few days and never was he pulled into conversation. All he received was a letter from your Father, and it was not cruel or ominous. I read it. Renly was just expected to discuss matters with Lyanna. To set new terms...” A sob rose in her. “He hadn’t even tried, Visenya.”_

_“Not all men...not all people are designed to stand tall in the midst of terrifying odds. The imagination can create a future that could be better or worse than in reality. Maybe for your Renly...his mind went to the worst, and he couldn’t come back from that; he couldn’t see what leaving would have meant for those he left behind. I know it is hard, but in time when your hurt has run it proper course and you begin to heal...for you will, perhaps you might find it within yourself not to judge him so harshly.”_

_“I am at a loss as to how I should feel. I do not know which feeling is the right one to hold in this moment.”_

_“Why do you need to choose? Let them roam free...” The young woman with hair much like her own cautioned._

_“I feel like if I hold on to one, then I might survive this. There are too many competing thoughts and emotions. I just can’t...I can’t keep myself tethered under the onslaught and I need to be tied...my children...this House is now their legacy. I have too much to oversee so I cannot allow my emotions to consume me.”_

_“You are not alone...not completely. We can’t weather this internal storm of yours, but we can help you manage the operation of Storm’s End, keeping your bannermen calm. I believe father is gathering the Stormlanders to meet with him. He will mitigate as much of this as he can. I have faith that he will. Trust in that to be handled. Allow us to care for your babes, but find comfort in your children, if you can...and grieve, Daenerys.”_

_Dany remembers just staring at the young woman. Scared to hope...to release the control that barely held her together. Her tears came, hard and hot, and all she remembers was being pulled into Visenya’s arms as Dany cried._

Daenerys knew she had to be her best today...just one more day...and then she could go back to her chambers...back to her bed where she could draw the curtains and mourn just a little bit longer.

They all sat in a large drawing room in Queen Lyanna’s guest apartment. The stage was set, Daenerys thought. The seating made for a square shape...like a box of sorts. She found that idea funny; in a dark way. Perhaps they are all stuck inside said box. Three side held two high-back chairs with a small table in between, and at one end...the end face the door...was a high-back settee large enough for two.

The Queen and the Queen Mother sat in the two chairs where the dark overcast shone through from the windows behind them. To the right of them was an unused hearth, where two more chairs were placed before it; there sat Aemon and Robb. Across from the men sat two more places for Daenerys and her niece. 

Everyone sat motionless and in silence, with perhaps the occasional readjustment on a chair or the lifting of a cup to one’s lips.

A gentle knock at the door alerted them that the time had come. Daenerys found that she was the only one who was not putting on a pretense. She was grief-stricken and could not pretend otherwise. For a moment she thought how difficult it must be for those to pretend all is well under the circumstances, especially when they lay in wait to unveil the dishonesty of the people about to enter the room. 

The Kingsguard that came with her good-sister announced the timely arrival of Ser Loras and Lady Margaery Tyrell. Loras looked so handsome in his grief. He tries to pass it off as a deep loss of his friend, but Dany thought he looked more like she did. A friend wouldn’t look that way, would they? Of course, Margaery was a vision in her soft olive and pink dress. Dany didn’t miss the darted looks of concern she spared her brother.

“Your Graces.” The Tyrells bowed and curtseyed. 

Lyanna rose like the Queen she was, and spoke warmly as she gestured for the Tyrells to take the remaining seating before her.

“Ser Loras, Lady Margaery, I am pleased that you agreed to meet with me today. I know you are planning to depart for King’s Landing to attend my stepdaughter’s wedding, and as such your household is in a bit of disarray...as they usually are when one plans a trip.” 

“My Queen it is an honor. There was no hardship that would be cause enough to keep us away.” Margaery’s voice seemed a little too forced to Daenerys’s ears. Dany also didn’t miss how the young woman’s eyes tactfully crept towards her brother...a man who has so far remained silent. 

Recognizing Lyanna’s fake smile, she took a sip of her calming tea...the one recommended by the maester. There was naught for Dany to do but observe and so she sat back and watched the strained exchange between the royalty and nobility. 

“I find that I have been remised in expressing my condolences of the loss of our mutual acquaintance. I know Lord Baratheon was so much more than a ward of Highgarden. He was your friend, and perhaps more.”

Ser Loras’s clearing of his throat was like a shot to her gut. The sound wet...from tears he most likely shed for the man they both loved. How dare he feel anything? Ren was supposed to be hers. Maybe she exhibited some physical reaction herself, for Daenerys could feel Visenya’s squeeze her hand before pulling away.

Dany was aware of how Margaery’s eyes tracked the movement. She said nothing regarding it. The Tyrell Rose just sent Dany what the young woman guessed was a supportive smile, but the Lady of Storm’s End was unmoved by the sentiment. 

She could see a look being exchanged between her nephew and Robb Stark. Much was being said but she wasn’t sure of the topic. There was a lot of undercurrent that made comprehending all the side-conversations difficult. 

Seeing as her brother was unable to speak. Margaery spoke instead.

“Queen Lyanna you are too kind. We know Lady Baratheon is pained the most by the loss of Renly. Our sympathies stay with you, my friend.” 

Margaery sent her a sympathetic look of compassion. False, just false...and so well placed.

“But he was more than a ward. We loved him. He was like another brother to me.”

Ser Loras’s trembled breath had all eyes in attendance on him. Once he noticed it he looked to his sister with a slightly panicked expression. Catching himself, he finally spoke. 

“He will be greatly missed by those who had the honor to truly know the man he really was.”

“Hmmm...the man he really was? I do not understand.” Aemon asked, his voice in feigned confusion.

Loras once again looked at his sister. 

“I think what my brother meant was that sadly word may get out about the circumstances of his death. To take one’s life...well it is against the gods. Unfortunately, there will be very small-minded creatures who will find it hard to separate that choice from the man he was...beyond that one act.” 

Daenerys was impressed at how ‘quick’ Lady Margaery was with thinking on the spot. 

“I see.” Aemon hid his derisive smirk behind his cup as he took a sip of wine. 

“Hopefully as good friends of the recently departed Lord Baratheon and his wife, Lady Baratheon, she could count on you to be instrumental in keeping those positive thoughts of Renly alive and well in the face of such criticism. Being the good friends, you are of course.” Visenya posited. 

Dany turned to look at her niece. A courtly smile plastered on her face. She has seen a similar smile on her brother’s face. A sense of shrewdness glint behind eyes, that held the same color as hers, which reminded Dany of expressions she has seen on her brother and his wife, Queen Elia. An interesting combination of her parents Dany considered.

“Quite correct my dear granddaughter. I too hope we can continue to rely on the loyal support of the Tyrells in such trying times.” Her mother face so neutral, but she knows it not true. Rhaella had very particular and strong feelings towards the guest before them. 

“Now is the time to unite more than ever. We even have my nephew and future goodson with us today, and I think it is safe to assume the Crown has not always had the best relationship with the North.”

Robb’s gaze swept between the Queens and the Tyrells. “That is a fair assessment Queen Lyanna, but times are changing in our world. As you have wisely stated _‘Now is the time to unite more than ever.’_ , my hope in being here conveys that the Starks and the North value the principles of unity and loyalty. Pledges we have made in good faith to the Crown.” 

Robb’s light Northern intonation reminded her of Lyanna’s and her sons. An accent that is almost undetectable until they are in the presence of another Northerner...even one who fostered in the South. 

And then Lyanna began...

“Would you agree Ser Loras and Lady Margaery, that we should value the principles of unity and loyalty?” She spoke cheerfully. 

The Tyrell’s exchanged a shared look. Dany noticed a very subtle nod of Margaery’s head. 

“Of course. It is only in unity and loyalty can we trust in our allies...and alliances are what allow for all of us to live harmoniously and to survive.”

“Alliances, and all those protected under them, can only survive if all involved are united and loyal...so true Lady Margaery...and sage advice.” 

Queen Rhaella praised, her head nodding in agreement. Though in that entire exchanged Daenerys thought her mother was insincere in her praise but genuine in gesture. 

“Yes, it was sage...a very mature outlook on the way our world works. I must say I find myself a bit at a loss...now that I have heard this.”

“In what way, Queen Lyanna?” Visenya asked, that glint in full possession of her gaze as it sweeps the room before landing on the Tyrells.

“I just find it interesting I suppose that the Tyrell’s speak of the value and importance of unity and loyalty, but they seem selective in practice.” Lyanna rose a cup of tea to her lips, her once wide eyes were now narrow and her gaze biting.

The Tyrell’s froze, Ser Loras stood up, but his sister reached for his hand to pull him back onto his seat. 

“I seem to be at a loss your Grace. What has my family done to warrant your suspicion that we are not what we claim to be.” Margaery’s eyes were widened as she gazed between the Queen and Aemon, but she maintained her calm...though Dany did notice her long graceful neck was swallowing frequently...a sign of nerves or fear. 

Daenerys wasn’t picky, she’d take either or both from her former friend. As she watched the Lady in question send a pleading look to Aemon, she wondered if Margaery thought Lyanna’s doubt was about her and Aemon. Would she ever consider that this was about her brother...or herself?

The answer became clear to her when Daenerys finally spoke.

“I suppose it was never a suspicion per se...though my mother did have her reservations. It was more like an unexpected revelation, as I never considered for a moment that my husband was having a longstanding affair with Ser Loras and you and your family were aware of it.”

The soft pink flush that always seemed to adorn the Tyrell siblings disappeared in the blink of an eye. The sudden paleness a sight to behold...though it brought Dany no joy. 

“Daenerys what you speak of is...”

“It’s Princess Daenerys. Please tread carefully in how you respond, Lady Margaery. We would not be having this conversation if there wasn’t cause.” Lyanna cautioned. The Queen sat a regal as ever...much like her own mother. It was a presence she had always hoped she could express but wasn’t sure she ever could...until now. 

“Forgive me your Grace, it’s just that I think there is some confusion.”

“Is there? Hmmm...” Lyanna cocked her head as she examined the couple before her.

Rhaegar’s wife took a deep breath, a short sip, and settled herself into her chair. “Before you answer, I want to tell you a story...” 

And she had. Her goodsister shared what very few people knew...even Daenerys herself learned more about what had happened to the men who betrayed her brother...especially the specifics of Grandmaester Pycelle’s horrific demise. Once Lyanna finished, she sat forward, pinning the Tyrells in their places...eyes of a starved She-wolf. 

“Now Ser Loras and Lady Tyrell, if you think I am confused by all means I welcome your corrections.”

There was a silence in the room that only seemed uncomfortable for the Tyrells. Dany observed her family and those soon to be. 

Visenya sat serenely and for a moment Dany wondered if she was present in the current conversation. 

Her mother and Lyanna both glared at the Tyrell’s under narrowed eyes...lips flat and straight...their anger simmering under their affects. 

Aemon crossed one leg over the other as he sat back, his own eyes assessing the scene before him. 

Robb radiated judgement and for a moment Dany wondered if his objections were in that Loras lied or that he laid with a man. She seems to think his qualm is with the former. 

“I do not need the Tyrells to justify their actions. I know what I heard. Aemon confirmed he heard the same.”

Margaery’s eyes widened as she panned a slow gaze onto Aemon.

“To confirm that such a relationship existed between my husband and your brother. I had sought the religious council of the septon and the setpa we have residing at Storm’s end, and they too found the sounds reserved for procreating coming from the rooms where only Ser Loras and my husband entered. You were always so sure no one was watching you that you never saw the maid who would find the sheets you tried to discard in the soiled linens. The sheets that had the trace of your spent seeds.”

The rapid breathing coming from the Tyrells and the loss of pallor were the only clues to their distress. They were truly so good at containing their thoughts. A skill she was now going to have to learn, though one that has not come naturally to her. 

“And if that was not enough information, the supposition was verified when I spied them together _in their cave_ by the sea. There they were rutting naked against each other in utter bliss...heated, sweat-slicked, while their moans of pleasure echoed in the cavern and the slapping of their flesh reverberated against the thick walls. The septon was horrified. To me though, it was...a sight to behold, and perhaps I could have enjoyed it a bit more if I wasn’t so devastated by the act in question.” 

Aemon rose from his seat to stand behind mother, he eyes staring outside the window but his words directed to the ones seated behind him.

“So House Tyrell, how do you reconcile words like unity and loyal within an alliance and practice what seems to be the opposite. I truly am looking forward to your reply for I hope it is better than Lord Tywin Lannister’s...for that didn’t seem to go over very well for him.”

“I must ask your Graces to show some mercy. What came from my brother and Lord Renly relationship...what it was...it wasn’t planned nor intentional. They were what they were, and I am...we are sorry that Daenerys was hurt in the awareness of it all.”

“Does that apology go for your grandmother and father too? For they were aware of the relationship...as you seem to reveal to my son and goodsister? Hmmm...mayhap your older brothers knew as well?” Lyanna’s voice was cold and very hard. 

Margaery seemed to struggle which how to manage the situation, Daenerys noticed. Oh, look how well the Rose of Highgarden was at managing the room and the people in it. Now it seemed the young woman was at a disadvantage...she never had the full attention of so many people at once. People aware of her better nature. 

“I think now would be a good time to ask how you could make amends, rather than speak words that might find yourself in a worse situation than you are now. Maybe if Lord Lannister had tried that tactic rather than justifying his position, then he too might be with us today....” 

Visenya’s voice sounded entirely to warm...bordering on merry. It presented as such an eerie juxtaposition to the somberness of the moment. “...along with his House.”

Visenya smiled warmly at the Tyrells, her head nodded in a gesture of support. Daenerys thought she might have underestimated her niece for far too long. She might be just as misunderstood as Aemon and perhaps just at sly.

The silence continued. The Tyrells would have to speak at some point Dany noted. How she wanted them to just disappear. She wanted them gone from her home...she wanted them away from her. It was Aemon’s voice that pulled her attention away from her overstayed guest. 

“Hmmm...wise advice my sister. Oh, I meant to ask have you received any new from your mother. How does she fair on her journey...to Highgarden.” Aemon’s smirk was quite evident behind his cup. 

“According to her last raven, she is doing well. She should be there now in fact.”

“Such a longer trip than Storm’s End. I hope she was in good company.”

“Oh, she is...for father sent her with a pretty substantial party.”

Lyanna kept her eyes down as she sipped from her cup. Listening to the exchange, a smile on her lips. 

“Truth be told mostly solders and bannermen from the Crown, the North, and the Westerlands. Your father aims to keep his family protected as you well know. I trust my sister-wife is in good hands...I am sure Highgarden is delighted to be met with such a show of...unity and loyalty.”

Loras stilled and Margaery looked close to faint. Daenerys could see Margaery calculating all the ways to remove herself from his moment without doing her family any further harm. She watched as Ser Loras discreetly reached for his sister’s hand...she noticed the gentle squeeze...a gesture that spoke of their own family unity. 

“It seems as if our House has been remiss in our commitment to our alliances with your House and Crown, Queen Lyanna. How can we rectify that?” 

It was Loras who spoke. That surprised Dany, and by the expressions of most in the room it was unexpected by everyone else.

“Thank you Ser Loras for not trying to justify your relationship. We only care about it in the sense that it came to be and my goodsister was hurt by it. The deed compounded by the fact your family knew and I’d say encouraged...for if they didn’t encourage it...this moment would never have come to pass.”

Lyanna placed her cup on the table before she continued.

“My husband is not ordinarily a cruel man. I do not want you to think we live in fear of a mad king. He is one to be taken seriously though. With that said, he has offered you two choices. Choices your family will be made aware of, if they haven’t been already.”

The Tyrell siblings shared an uneasy look. 

“If you choose, Lady Margaery, you will marry Aemon, making you a princess by marriage. This allows the Targaryens to uphold their agreement for the Tyrell’s help and support through the rebellion and in the aftermath. We will honor this even though at some point your family made a poor choice to encourage and keep Lord Renly and Ser Loras’s relationship a secret.” 

Lyanna tipped her head as she addressed Margaery. “Aemon will not be named Crown Prince. I know you had expectations of being a queen. Perhaps one of your future daughter’s might marry the Crown Prince’s heir when he becomes King.”

Margaery looked down, a hard swallow could not be missed, her hands fisted at the sides of her dress. 

“ As for you Ser Loras, you are to serve as a Kingsguard for me.”

Both Tyrell’s heads shot up in shock and surprise. 

“Now some might say that having you so close it a poor idea, but should something happen to the royal family, then your brother would have to be the first of the Tyrells to pay for that misfortune.”

“But anyone could try to harm you...what if it wasn’t us.” Margaery voice shook with a small degree of indignation. 

“There will be no exceptions. The Hand and the Lord Commander will be made aware of the situation. It would be in your best interest Ser Loras that no harm comes to the royal family.”

It seemed the Lady was gaining her footing, Dany thought. At least the soft scoff that left Margaery’s lips made her think so.

“And if we do not find your current proposal pleasing, what is our other option?” Loras inquired, he voice and demeanor in sync...quiet and desolate. 

How she understands that feeling? To once again see him so bring a slice of pain to her. Who is he to feel thusly? She was Renly’s wife...this pain shouldn’t belong to another. Does Loras feel the same about her? God’s how she wants to leave this room, but atlas duty demands that she stayed to see it through. 

“The other option is Lady Margaery can choose not to marry Aemon, and in making that choice your family is asking the crown not to honor the agreement. However, word will spread about your brother’s predilections; though great care would be made not to connect the King’s sister’s deceased husband with such gossip...on penalty of death.”

The room became unbearably uncomfortable. Discomfiture would be the word to best describe Lady Margaery’s expression, and for Ser Loras...disgrace. 

“I imagine the Faith will help him see the error of his ways, or the Wall once he is tried and found guilty of the sin of lying with men. He’s such a good-looking man, dare I say pretty. I’m sure he will not lack for companionship whether it is the desired type or not.”

The Tyrell’s countenance morphed into twinned horror. 

“After weathering such a scandal, and I have no doubt that your family won’t, not with that grandmother of yours setting the course. Though I would imagine afterwards that marriage alliances for you and all your cousins might be difficult to come by within the Reach or beyond...come to think of it.”

“Either don’t possess much of a choice Queen Lyanna?” Margaery’s thorns were present...prickly she was. Her voice mild, but barbed. 

Lyanna made a quiet noise before replying. “Oh of course they do. You are being afforded what very few individuals get to have.” 

“What is that?”

Standing, Lyanna walked towards the Tyrell’s. Daenerys noticed a genuine kind smile...one Lyanna rarely shares with others outside of her husband, children...or Dany.

“A choice to choose your consequence after you engaged in betrayal. It might not have been your plan, but you were not moved to go in another direction. In fact, you were groomed for it. Along the way though, you learned the difference between was is right and what is wrong. You still chose as you had.”

Her good-sister now stood behind Daenerys’s chair. A comforting hand on Dany’s shoulder. She raised her hand to rest on Lyanna’s. How she missed her soothing touch. Dany closed her eyes at the gesture, her eyes burning as the tears demanded release. She refused to open her eyes. To let them see her fall. All her senses could track was the sound of Lyanna’s final words. 

“I know it seems cruel, but you are being given a type of twisted kindness. One path forces the consequences of your actions on to you, the other spreads the consequences over others who are truly blameless...like your cousins. You have the choice to take it on to yourself or to distribute the load. _The choice is yours_. I am sorry if the results aren’t to your liking, but I have found in my experience that behaving in ways that promote your own self-interest at the cost of your word never makes for pleasant punishments. Trust me when I tell you that, as I am well versed in living with my own penalties.” 

At hearing such words, Daenerys rose, and expressed her feelings of being unwell. 

“I will escort you to your chambers.” Lyanna pronounced. “Lady Margaery and Ser Loras, I look forward to your decision. I must insist though that you travel with my family back to Kings Landing for the wedding. We too shall be leaving shortly.”

As they exited the room, Daenerys could hear Aemon’s voice.

“Before you leave to discuss matters, Ser Loras and Lady Margaery, I would like to show you something in hopes that you will take the sight with you...keeping it in the forefront of your minds as you make your decisions. Please note, a third path of your own making is not an option.”

As the door shut behind them, all she heard was a perturbed gasp from Lady Margaery. 

There was little spoken as they set forth to Dany’s chambers. She entered her room and sat on her bed. The women said nothing to each other. Lyanna removed Dany’s shoes, helped remove her gown, loosened her tightly braided hair. She pulled the covers back from Dany’s bed, a silent order given to lay down...and she did. A minute later she felt her good-sister lie beside her, holding Dany in her arms as she did when she was a little girl. It was then that Daenerys was able to continue to let her tears fall.

*****

Back in Kings Landing, Ashara had the task of keeping Jon Connington focused of preparations for the wedding. A decree that the older man was not happy with, but King Rhaegar had been very clear that Connington was to adhere to Lady Ashara’s wishes as he would for the Queen Elia; as Lady Ashara represented his wife in matters pertaining to their daughter’s wedding.

At this point there was much speculation about the departure of the Queens and the groom himself. Knowledge has spread and now the Court is aware that the women left for different destinations as did the groom...and his father. 

Eddard.

Three sennights have passed since he departed. Earlier that day, the King had personally informed Ashara of news that they were returning. A raven had arrived announcing that Elia and her party was to arrive in a little less than a fortnight. Such news brought happiness to Ashara and Elia’s children...though Ashara couldn’t deny that Rhaegar’s eyes betrayed his own sense of relief at the news. 

Though she harbors her own resentment towards the man, she cannot deny that Rhaegar feels deeply for her dearest friend...what he feels exactly she could not say, but she knows what he and Elia once were before and what she and Rhaegar are now; well it is different. 

Ashara tries not to read too much into it, for in the end Elia will decided to proceed with Rhaegar as she sees fit. In all honesty, she probably should take a cue from her friend and decide how she should move forward with her own relationship challenges; namely Eddard Stark. 

Since they have reunited most of their time has either been discussing Lia’s childhood. He’s shared what fatherhood has been like for him...how sons and daughters are different. Life in the North.

There has been some conversation on what his life had been like with Catelyn. While she loved Ned enough to want him to be happy in his life, it pained her to know that he found love with his wife. At times, Ned attempted to raise the topic of what her life was like in Dorne...primarily attempting to inquire if she had loved another. 

A part of Ashara was embarrassed to reveal to Ned that the only man she had ever been with was him. It wouldn’t have been to uncommon to have taken a lover, but that was just not Ashara’s way. While there was interest, she always wondered if the men wanted her for her appearance or for her reputation for having a bastard said a lot about a woman...or so that is what a few angry men shared with her when they hadn’t liked her polite dismissal.

Whereas she never judge Elia for finding love with Jaime and living her life openly with him; Ashara hadn’t found someone like the knight...she hadn’t come even close. 

Diverting Ned’s interest in her love life was trying. She found it easier to share with him how she lived with Atticus and served as Lady of Starfall after his wife fell ill and died when a Spring flu took her. The loss she felt when her brother died not to long after, and how she had to care for their daughter and her young nephew while serving as his regent. 

Life for Ashara, he had learned, was not that of a lady of leisure. She ran a House in her nephew stead, while raising a child, and seeing to the nurturing and care of her beloved nephew as she prepared him to be the next Lord of Starfall. She took care of her people and many livelihoods were dependent on the decisions she made with the advice of a council she trusted. 

They both noticed how similar their roles became...a Lord of a House...and Regent of another. Now he was to returned to Kings Landing and she was sure he would want an answer to his question. 

_Would she have him back?_

Ashara thought it a foolish question considering how he had asked her; the day before he left for the Reach. She found no shame in welcoming Ned back in to her bed. They both were older, mature, and unattached. Ashara had begun to climb out of bed to get them a vessel of wine...she found herself to be the most...parched...after a bout of lovemaking. 

**Just as her feet touched the floor** , Ned’s muscled arm shot out and pulled her back by her waist. It seemed the man kept his body very...well-conditioned after all these years. Her own nude back was pressed against his board chest as his lips made their way with gentle kisses from her ear, down her neck, and onto her shoulders.

With his other hand he gently moved her hair aside making way for his lips to make contact with her flesh as the tip of is tongue made a wet trail along the way. He told her he loved how she tasted. Gods how this quiet man spoke in subtle obscenities. 

Once he rose onto his knees, he pulled Ashara closer to him, forcing her to straddle his thick thighs. His hands gripped her full breast as his thumb and forefingers were pulling and tugging at the most sensitive parts of her. He altered his angle just so to position himself at her entrance, he pushed upward...his member causing her to moan as his delicious girth stretched her. The burn familiar and most welcomed. 

Ashara’s head fell back onto his shoulder, her long graceful neck exposed. Ned took one hand and gently steered her face towards his. Their gazes collided and Ashara found herself clenching her muscles to command Ned to move...and bless the Gods he did. With a growl he kissed her passionately, and took her like he seemed to prefer...he took her like a wolf. 

In the midst of their hunger for each other, as Ned thrusted powerfully into her, Ashara found it impossible to speak...broken sobs and long groans were the only sounds to escape her mouth as she rode him. She couldn’t understand how Ned could be coherent. Between his own gasps for breath and grunts of pleasure his words pierced through the sensual haze.

_“I do not want us to end, Ashara. We don’t have to.”_

She was almost there, her peak so close. His fingers found their way to the sensitive nub between her legs, and that was the edge she needed. Everything went blinding white and he worked her through her release. His lips once again at her lips. His teeth pulling on her lobe. 

Sounding more like a beast than a man, his words rung in her ear. 

_“Would you have me back? Tell me Ashara. Tell me.”_

Her previous release still sent spasms through her body, gripping him tightly within her, that was what he needed to chase his own relief...and unable to answer him in the moment Ashara let her body shudder as she peaked again **this time with Ned following her**.

Afterward they had fallen asleep, Ashara waking before Ned and slipping quietly out of her room before he woke. He left Kings Landing without his answer, but she found a note on her desk when she returned to her room after he had departed with Elia’s party. 

_Ash,_

_Yay or nay...please have an answer for me waiting for me for when I return, my Lady._

_With love,  
Ned_

It seems the man remembered posing a question, and that it was a request made thoughtlessly during the throes of passion.

_What would her answer be?_

Looking for some clarity, some answer, Ashara sets for a walk in the gardens. To her surprise she finds her daughter already there. Ashara doesn’t make herself noticeable, she observes her daughter in the moment. A joy she finds she hasn’t had in quite a while. 

Lia sat with a book, a small pot of ink and a quill. Her daughter seemed very focused on a particular type of flower. Knowing her child she imagined Lia was making notations on a particular flower that caught her attention. 

It was always a marvel to Ashara that she had such a creative and intelligent child. While she and Ned weren’t slow-witted people, they weren’t like Lia...yet somehow the both of them created someone who possessed a certain type of brilliance. 

As she thinks about who her daughter has become, Ashara is ever grateful to the people who encouraged her to raised Lia to embrace her intellect rather than to shy away from it because it would have been advantageous for her to do so...as no man wants a wife smarter than he is. 

Now she watches the girl who walked by the rhythm of her own beat...and now she is a woman who would soon marry a prince. How strange the world can be sometimes?

Seemingly lost in her thoughts, Ashara hadn’t heard her daughter’s call.

“Mother.”

“Mother!”

Awakening, Ashara focused on her daughter.

“Sorry dear. I am a bit distracted. I have had a lot on my mind...all matters vying for my attention simultaneously it seems.”

“I can understand that. Between the wedding...and matters with the Crown...it is a challenging time.”

“Yes, all that among other things.”

“Would one of those things be my father?” Lia’s voice spoke on a whisper.

Ashara didn’t know how to answer that question without speaking on a topic that perhaps wasn’t appropriate for her daughter to know. There are just some things children should not know about their parents. 

“Your father and I are at an impasse of sorts. It is not one full of friction and tension, though when he returns that assessment might change. I have it on solid authority that your father would like to reconnect, but I am not sure what that would look like now.”

“What do you mean? I thought you loved him?” Lia’s sounded unsure...perhaps even disappointed, Ashara thought. 

“I do. I have loved your father, but he has a life Lia in the North. A life he built with another, and though she is not there I fear that her touch will be. I do not want to live in her touch, nor do I want to be the one to disturb it for his children or his people. It’s those traces that remind them of Lady Catelyn and I would never want to be associated with altering or removing those impressions from their lives.”

“While I understand that concern, and while a thoughtful one, they all have to expect that Lord Stark would remarry. That would still happen. Might I mention that in Rhae marrying Robb, change will be inevitable.”

Ashara had to laugh at her pragmatic daughter. 

“You are correct on both levels, dear, but there is the human element to it all. His children know who I am. Who I have always been for their father...even when married to their mother. It is different, Lia. As for Rhaenys...she is not Ned’s new wife...she is their Lord Robb’s and that is a bit more palatable to accept. But it’s not just the North and Ned’s children.”

“What else is there?”

“My own life, Lia! It was hard having to be who I am for me, and for you, and for Edric. I was a Lord’s daughter. My path was to marry another Lord and bare his children. Instead I became an unwedded mother and eventually became Regent for my brother’s child upon his death. So many of these things were not in my life plan, dear girl.” Ashara offered her daughter a sweet smile in hopes that Lia was not offended by her words. 

“I think I understand.”

“Do you? I am not sure I do...” Ashara released a frustrated laugh.

“It comes down to whether you are willing to give up the hard-earned independent life you have carved for yourself in Dorne for the prescriptive life of a High Lords wife.”

Listening to her daughter phrase it just so, she found the assessment to be so simple considering the complexity a marriage between them would entail...but nevertheless it was accurate.

“I suppose that it the crux of it.” Ashara sighed. She looked at her daughter, and she knew her expression was sad...torn. She wouldn’t hide that from Lia. 

“I want to be with your father, I just don’t see how. Too much time has passed. I am not the same woman I once was. I have responsibilities and duties that I can’t step away from. Then there is you.”

“Me! I should be the least of your concern. Regardless of what is to become of you; you are my mother. He will always be the man I knew as father. Whatever I build with him would just be separate from you.”

“I do think of you Lia. It is a mothers prerogative. I couldn’t turn it off. The idea is quite impossible. You’ll discover that quickly once you become a mother yourself. When I say I think of you...I consider where your life is taking you Lia. Your life will most likely be here in Kings Landing. You and Aegon will build your own family, and I want to be near as that family grows.”

“For now, I can do that from Dorne as it is closer than Winterfell. Then when Edric is of age, which is soon, I will accept Elia’s offer to serve as her companion. My life would be here in Kings Landing as well. Ned is of the North. I do now know how it could work dearest.”

They sat in companionable silence. Lia resting her head on Ashara’s shoulder, and she resting her head on top of her daughters. How perfectly they seemed to be made for each other?

“My father told me that in keeping his truth to himself, he would choose me so that I can have the life I want with Aeg. Perhaps he would also choose you...if given a choice. I do not have the particulars of your conversations, nor do I want to know them, but if he is the one initiating a formal definition of what you are to be...if he is seeking some sort of public declaration, then perhaps you should tell him your reasons for why leaving Dorne is not an option for you. You might find him making a choice...just as you once made.”

Ashara weighed her daughter’s advice. Fear was heavy she thought. Fear that he wouldn’t chose her...not now, not after so much time has passed. A young second son, yes, but a Lord Paramount of many years...most likely not. 

He lives a life that is more traditional than Ashara would be used to...in a culture so different from her own, and yet she does not think he is built to be in long term relationship with a woman who is not his wife. At some point they both will want more, and she wonders who will bend.

“Thank you, Lia...while you have given me more to consider; I think I have an idea of how to address a question your father left for me before he departed. Thank you for that, for your words have offered me more clarity than I had before.”

Ashara kissed the top of her daughter’s head as she held her closer. 

“So, tell me what is so thought-provoking about his flower?”

“It’s interesting actually. If an insect lands on the center of the flower’s face, then its petals close up...consuming the poor creature that landed on it.”

“Gods that sounds horrible.”

“Hmmm...I guess if you are the pest that landed on it. I find it fascinating that there seems to be no purpose for this flower to behave in such a way. It is nourished by rich soil...so it is well fed in secret. Yet, it appears to have no qualms about being public in getting what it wants.”

Ashara couldn’t hold in the laughter. How this young woman makes her find joy in the simplest things when the mind is heavy. 

“I suppose that is one way to consider it. You are a curious one Lia. I thanks the Gods for you every day, my girl.”

Her love’s smile was on their daughter’s face, and it brought Ashara more peace in that moment, than she had since reading Ned’s note.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmmm...what do you think? Bracing for impact...lol.


	16. Peripeteia: (n) the sudden or unexpected reversal of circumstances; the point of no return (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tyrells are met with by the Queens. Ashara and Lia discuss what having Ned back means for Ashara.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer #1: I do not own these characters.
> 
> FYI 1, the Queens interactions with the Tyrells are told from Dany's POV and Ned's POV.  
> FYI 2, the chapter was too long so I split it...but I am publishing both parts at the same time.

*****

Eddard Stark knows he isn’t made for roses and gardens. The North is more simplistic in its beauty. He can appreciate the gardens of Highgarden for its overall...aesthetics, but at times it feels a bit too artificial. The over growth of all these blooms have nearly sent him to the sickbed with all the chronic sneezing he finds himself displaying.

Once again he finds Queen Elia quietly passing him a clean handkerchief as she continues to read the letter she just received from Kings Landing...one that a raven had delivered the day before they arrived. 

“I figured you need this more than I do. Your last one is in no condition to be used again. Have you always had such reaction to the outdoors?” 

It was not lost on Ned that the Queen was trying not to laugh at his predicament. Ever the gracious Queen, she averts her eyes as he attempts to make himself presentable.

With a deep sniff as he places the cloth in his doublet, Ned laughs sullenly.

“No, my Queen. This is not my typical reaction. This is something altogether...another beast. Why are they so many bloody roses? It is rose bush after rose bush...without a moments space between them.”

The Dornish woman ceased her attempts at containing her merriment, and Ned proceeded to watch the Queen laugh heartily at his expense. Head thrown back, slender hand at her waist, eyes bright with joy...Ned found his own mouth twitching for her laughter was contagious. 

“My apologizes, Ned.” Elia’s voice breaks between bouts of laughter. “I am so sorry...” 

As Ned watches her, he thinks to himself when was the last time this woman laughed so freely. He doubts very much it was at King’s Landing. While Ned knows his sister is a Northern beauty, for that was never in dispute, he sees how enchanting this Queen is. 

This personality of hers could not have been recently born but rather a part of her the whole time. Does the king find her as captivating? When he ruminates on how he’s caught Rhaegar watching Elia, he has his answer. You are a special type of fool, Rhaegar. 

“I just wonder if Lia’s garden is as...compacted as the ones in Highgarden. I feel like I must mentally prepare myself...and request that more handkerchiefs are prepared beforehand.” Ned had every intention of seeing Lia’s garden before he had to make plans to go North. He wanted that memory as much as he is sure his daughter would like it as well.

Elia bit her lip as she shook her head. “No, it is not like this. She has different sections...there are moments of space, my Lord.” Her laughter began to rumble. 

“So, I shall be granted a reprieve.”

“I should think so. Thank you kind Ser for the laughter. This letter was most disappointing.”

“More than hearing about Lord Renly’s death.” Ned found himself sobering at the words. Robert’s younger brother. Gone. With Stannis at the Wall...there are no living Baratheon’s to carry on their family history. What will come of Renly’s sons will be shaped by their mother’s family. In a way Renly was the Last True Baratheon.

“I cannot believe it still.”

“Hello Goodsister! Lord Stark!”

Ned turns to see Viserys and his nephew Daeron walking towards them. Elia offers wine to the men as they find a seat among them. 

“Apologies for our tardiness and interruption. It seems Daeron has learned a few things since we last sparred. It took a long to make him fall, but I did succeed...perseverance is key.”

Ned looked over at his nephew, the young man’s Stark eyes looking unamused. His voice dry, expression deadpanned.

“I can’t fault you there. It did take longer. Though I find it funny you forget to mention how many times your back met the ground at my hand BEFORE you could make me fall...ONCE.”

Ned found a rumble of laughter vibrating through his chest.

“Awe...tsk, tsk, tsk...poor Viserys.” Elia playfully mocked. “Well done Daeron. Have you been trying the footwork I suggested?”

“Yes. Water dancing works for me.”

Curious Ned asked, “Water Dancing?”

“It is a style of sword fighting. We had a master from Braavos come to teach us many years ago. My daughter’s and I prefer it...it requires a lighter sword and fast footwork. Most men in Westeros ‘hack’ when sword fighting. You’re always bracing yourselves for the next hit. With water dancing, you don’t see the person coming...not when you expect Westerosi fighting.”

“Clearly. Uncle Viserys is a testament to that.” The young man smirked. 

“Moving on...” Viserys drawled. Ned caught Elia’s eye and the both shared a smile. He like Elia. She was a good woman and a good friend...family...to Asahra and Lia. Not that it matters but he will always be grateful to her for that...and for her not hating him on behalf of her friend. It would make matters more...complicated.

“I was just telling Ned about the letter I received. I know the Tyrells have planned a feast for us this evening. We will go and be gracious. I have asked to meet with Lord Tyrell and the Queen of Thornes. They look forward to meeting us...morning tea it seems, in their personal rose gardens. My apologies in advance, Ned. Perhaps my personal maester can offer you a tonic to alleviate what is to come.”

“I will see to him today. Thank you, your Grace.”

“It appears that Rhaegar...in light of Lord Baratheon’s recent death, has made some additional alliances.” The Queen seemed cautious in her tone, he noted.

“He has also written to Stannis Baratheon.”

“Why? I am sure the Nights Watch will receive a raven like anywhere else.” Daeron confusion bled into his voice and Ned found himself in agreement. Why would Rhaegar contact the Watch directly?

“He wanted to explain, I suppose. I tell you this because the bigger issue is that he has offered Stannis a pardon.”

“What?” Ned and the three other men with him chimed in unison.

“Our family could see Daenerys through this. We can help her raise her sons. What we can’t do is teach them how to be Baratheons. The Stormlands follow Baratheons...with perhaps a few exceptions like Connington and even they are outliers.”

Elia crossed her legs and leaned over to refill her cup. 

“There is no one who can teach them what that means. The Stormlanders will know it and they will see it as the Targaryens taking control of their home. Most of the realm is very satisfied with Rhaegar and his reign, but aside from perhaps the North and the Eyrie, the Stormlands are barely loyal. They are still understandably sore about Robert.”

Ned considers her words, and find in his experience and correspondence with other Lords he fostered or fought with, that what Elia said is a fair estimation of what most feel towards the Crown. 

“Rhaegar is trying to dismiss any dissent or need for a rebellion. Stannis is well regarded...even after he was made to take the Black. A horrible decision Rhaegar made. One I have counseled him to try and correct. He should never have punished Stannis in such as way.”

“What becomes of Stannis if he were to return?” Ned inquired. What would be that dutiful man’s obligation now? Robert and Renly...how you have left much for your brother to carry.

“If Stannis comes back, then he can be Regent with Daenerys until the boys are of age. He would be free to marry. If he is wise, then would and have a daughter and marry her to Daenerys’s oldest son...adding his bloodline to his brother’s. This would empower the heir’s claim as a Baratheon.”

“Do you think he will accept?” Visery questioned. His expression very severe. Perhaps cautious would be the better descriptor.

“That I do not know. From what I remember of him, he is a proud young man who took oaths seriously. I do not know if he will find honor in leaving the Wall even if Rhaegar offers the pardon. It might have to be enough for the Stormlanders that Rhaegar offered Stannis the choice.”

The next morning Ned found himself feeling better considering he was sitting in what had to be an outdoor rose bouquet. 

“Take solace Ned in the fact that his conversation will not last very long.” Elia whispered close to his ear as she pat his hand softly. 

Ned nodded. His eyes noticed how all were seated. Where people sat told you if they were in a place of power or at the mercy of it. A large round table provided comfort for them all he supposed making it difficult for one to see where the power resided. Perhaps the Tyrells thought it was with them, but all Ned could feel was the quiet power of Elia pulsating beside him. 

At one curve sat the Queen of Thornes herself, Olenna Tyrell. On her right sat her son, but on her left her grandson and Mace’s heir, Willas. 

Daeron sat nearest to Willas and Viserys to Mace. He and Elia sat beside each other, with her good brother next to me and her stepson by her.

“I must say your Grace, I was taken by surprised to hear you were making your way to Highgarden. I know the place has a reputation for being a splendid beauty, but to come so close to your daughter’s wedding seemed a bit...unusual.”

Elia smiled at Olenna, her face revealing nothing other than relaxed countenance. 

“Well I must admit the timing may seem a bit off, but the purpose is of the utmost importance. My daughter, as a natural-born princess of the realm, understood the reason for my departure and sent me away with her deepest affections.”

An awkward silence fell over the veranda as Lady Olenna waited for her son to continue the conversation. Her heavy sigh didn’t seem to prod him on as the man was highly focused on consuming the biscuits before him. Ned couldn’t ignore the silent conversation she seemed to be having with her grandson. 

“Your Grace...” The young man began. “...you speak of an important matter which prompted you to leave your home at such an inopportune time. As the Tyrell’s are one of...if not the most...loyal family to the Crown, how can we help you, my Queen?”

Olenna’s shrewd eyes were at work and Ned had to keep that understanding at the forefront of his mind. He is a direct man and all these niceties do drain him...and it shows...on his face, his demeanor, and his tone. His purpose in escorting Queen Elia to the Reach was to assist in her efforts, not sabotage them. 

“I come baring some distressing news. It seems as though House Tyrell’s _loyalties_ have come into question. So much so that the King sent me straight away to confirm the validity of such rumor.”

Olenna chuckles. “I think we have proven ourselves very devout to the Crown. We have always given our word, military, and coin when needed. My son even serves as the Master of Coin. Our dear Margaery is to be betrothed to your own son.” 

Olenna sat forward, her eyes wide as she continued. Her next word made him angry for they weren’t true nor honorable...not in the spirit in when Rhaegar had intended. He may not agree on much with his good-brother, but on this account they were of like mind. 

“We even cared for Lord Baratheon from child to man, may his unfortunate passing be blessed by the Gods. My grandson Loras and he were like brothers. So close even after Renly married. Our dear Margaery has been with Princess Daenerys...first as a dear friend awaiting the birth of her first child, and now she is there to help the young princess grieve. I am at a loss at to what King Rhaegar has heard. What word could the King have received to incur such doubt as to send his Queen to see us?”

Elia’s eyes never left Olenna, and neither did her smile. 

“I must say you have done a fine job of projecting yourself as friend.” Ned saw Elia take a sip of her _rose tea_. 

“Which is why we were so surprised to discover how close a friend Lord Renly and Ser Loras had become while residing in Highgarden?” Elia continued to sip her tea as though nothing were amiss. 

The two male Tyrells looked across the Queen of Thornes, a side conversation now being had between them. Lady Olenna paled a bit making her blue head scarf seem brighter than it had been moments ago. 

Elia quietly rested her cup onto the table before her, before her heated gaze swept up and pinned Lady Olenna where she sat.

“As you have so kindly reminded me that my daughter’s wedding in set in about three sennights, I find we can dispense with the policy of small talk and focus on why we are here and what might mean for you. Lord Tyrell, my husband was very clear in his request to you regarding Renly, was he not?”

The rotund man began to sputter out a response, his pale face turning red. 

“My stepmother, _the Queen_ , asked you a question my Lord. Have the decency to respond.” 

Ned had to avert his gaze at his nephew’s tone. This young man seemed ready to call this family to task. He would be the wolf’s bite on behalf of his family, and that included Queen Elia. That warmed him.

“Yes, he was my Queen. He wanted Renly to be raised here in Highgarden and to be cared for. He wanted the young Renly to see what a loyal and honorable family looked like. We had done what the King requested.”

“He also told you he wanted Renly to understand the concept of family so that when the King married his sister to the young Lord, he would have an awareness of what loyalty and family meant so that he could build a loyal family of his own. A new start for the Baratheons and Targaryens considering all the bad-blood between them.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

“Now color us surprise to learn that you were aware that Renly’s feelings ran in another direction. Add on to that his feelings had him running toward your son, Ser Loras.”

“Queen Elia, they were told to stay away. What could we do?” Olenna huffed. Clearly agitated. Ned couldn’t figure out if it was because of the discovery or because she hadn’t been heeded. 

The young Willas clenched his jaw a bit to tightly. Perhaps the young man disagreed with his grandmother’s assessment. Ned found himself thinking of a few things the Tyrells _could_ have done. The old woman’s excuses were lacking.

“We didn’t agree with what they were doing, but we cared for them both...loved them. We gambled that when Lord Baratheon married he would put such foolishness away...or be better discreet about it. It’s not like we planned this, your Grace.” 

The old lady shrugged her shoulders before continuing.

“I feel for the Princess. We all do. But this was not any planned treachery. There is no reason we can’t all keep this quiet and among ourselves. It is in the best interest of all involved, especially Princess Daenerys.”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Elia look towards Viserys and then back towards him and Daeron.

“I find it interesting that you were aware but felt there was nothing you could do when your verbal request to cease did not work. I guess sending your grandson to foster elsewhere didn’t come up. Nor did demanding that he never visit with Lord Baratheon once he took his seat at Storm’s End. Hmmm...interesting don’t you think.”

The Tyrells remained quiet. Perhaps sensing that Elia was not finished.

“It seems you were aware and with the vast resources of your clever mind Lady Olenna you never thought to send him away. My husband finds deceit in that, as does my sister-wife, and I must admit I agree in kind. Prior to Renly’s death, shortly after Princess Daenerys wrote of her discovery, my husband had decided that a fit punishment would have been to make Ser Loras a Kingsguard to my sister-wife. Now he has offered your grandson another option. One Queen Lyanna has made to him...and your precious Margaery.”

“What punishment?” Lord Willas tone was grim, his face deep in worry.

“Well the Kingsguard is still a choice, but his alternatives are to supplicate himself to the Faith Militant...or he takes the Black for engaging in acts of sodomy. Renly’s name will be kept out on penalty of death...just in case _YOU_ were concerned. Personally, I am eager to see what he has chosen for himself.” 

“And my granddaughter?”

“My brother strongly believes in honoring one’s word. He values the spirit of which agreements and alliances are made over the letter. In light of the recent actions taken by you Lord Tyrell to follow the letter of King Rhaegar’s sentiments for Renly, he in turn will return the favor. King Rhaegar has chosen Prince Aemon to marry Lady Margaery. Should this be unacceptable he does understand, and you have the right to deny the agreement and the Crown without fear of retaliation.”

“But she was to marry the Crown prince! That was the agreement.” Lord Tyrell thundered. His mother placed a hand on his arm. Her own expression neutral...but her eyes betrayed her. The woman was highly vexed. 

“No Father, the agreement states a Prince of House Targaryen and a Rose of Highgarden. Any Rose will do, just as any Prince.”

“Well Margaery’s cousin Elinor can be matched. Our Rose will not marry a lesser Prince.” The Lord pronounced. “The insult.”

“That is your choice, Lord Tyrell. My good-sister is very firm on not forcing a young woman to marry a man she does not wish to.”

“Hmmm...I bet she is.” Lady Olenna spoke from the side of her mouth. Quiet enough to be discreet, but loud enough to be heard. All in attendance wise enough to not address the statement and ignore the barb.

“As it was said, the choice is yours. Now as you said, House Tyrell has been loyal to the Iron Throne. Ser Loras’s consequences are his for the recent discovery of his relationship with Lord Renly. We have offered to honor the letter of the marriage alliance. Now I must share with you your own consequences for such omission, as I find omission to be kin to deceit.”

Clearing his throat, the young Tyrell spoke. “Haven’t we been penalized enough your Grace?” 

Ned felt for the young man. He was trying to mitigate the losses for his family and their House rank and social standing, but alas the die has rolled and landed for this young man’s house. Unfortunately, he will inherit the problems created by his grandmother and father...by his family. How well Ned understands that. It is a hard and at some time bitter road to walk, and it is unfortunately walked alone. 

“I wish that were the case Lord Willas. Perhaps after we depart your grandmother or father will regal you with the true story of Lord Tywin Lannister. According to my husband they are two of the handful of people who know the particulars about the man’s demise...and that of his House.”

Lord Tyrell choked on his wine and his mother laid her cup slowly on the table. Their breaths seem shallow to Ned, but then they probably do not discuss the demise of Lord Lannister in relation to themselves.

“Now Lord Tyrell, the King thanks you for your years of service as Master of Coin, but he feels that perhaps in light of recent events that maybe your time will be better well spent here at Highgarden...with your mother. If anyone were to ask the King would say just that...minus the recent events, of course.”

Ned watched as the Lord seemed lost by the pronouncement. A dark chuckle came from Lady Olenna.

“So, this is how you think it well end Queen Elia. The Reach will not stand for this. They are loyal to House Tyrell. Take care with how much punishment you choose to give. A heavy load of it has a way of dragging the punisher down as well.”

An exaggerated nod of agreement, quiet murmurs of _“you are quite right...”_ , drew Ned’s gaze to Elia’s performance. The Queen tilted her head as though she were in deep thought. He wasn’t sure if she enjoyed these Southeron games, but she did have a stamina he just had never acquired. She pursed her lips before speaking.

“The Reach is loyal to House Tyrell, yes, but the Reach is loyal to House Targaryen too. You would be one of the few first to know of my daughter Visenya’s marriage to Ser Humfrey Hightower. Also, I do hope you send a note to your nephew and good-son, Lord Redwyne, for his newly acquired seat as the Master of Ships. We are very aware that as we have taken one high post from the Reach, we assured this region that we value its perspective...and therefore we substituted one distinguished Reach House for another.”

Elia took another sip of that fragrant tea and smile serenely at the Tyrells. 

“Recently the King has taken an interest in the Mander. Such an important river...not only for making the Reach so green and fruitful, but for traversing goods throughout the Houses that border the river and its tributaries. He feels it is not _protected_ as well as it should be considering the mouth of the river out to sea is free and open for the Iron Born to navigate and plunder...should they desire. He thinks we should not wait for such a moment to arise.”

“Are you threatening us with the Iron Born?” Lord Tyrell exclaimed; horror widened is eyes until he looked ready to fall over. Ned was sure the man would expire. 

“No Lord Tyrell. We want to avoid the possibility of such an occurrence. So, the King has taken steps to ensure that the Iron Born’s access point of the river is monitored, mobilized, and battle-ready. Lord Alester Florent has graciously taken on the ambitious task with support from the Throne. As Brightwater Keep is so close to the entrance, they made for the most logical choice.”

The young Prince leaned forward, a brow hiked toward the Lord Paramount. “One would think that the small folk who work so closely to and on the river would appreciate such security. I would hate to think you’d disagree, Lord Tyrell. What would your people say?”

“My father doesn’t disagree, my Prince.” Young Willas sent his father a very firm look.

“My wife sent me a note, as you well know, since it was your maester who handed me the letter. It seems as though Lord Mathis Rowan and Lord Florent have been in discussions regarding a betrothal of his daughter to the heir of Brightwater, Alekyne Florent.”

“Hmmmm...now that would be lovely.” Elia voice lobbed back. She continued without interruption. Once again Ned impressed that the direct no-nonsense woman he has grown to know can engage in such facades with ease.

“The man has three daughters, so it is nice that he is able to keep this daughter still within the Reach. As a bride who came from another region, it can be hard to adjust. It just must be a funny coincidence that the Mander does flows from the Westerlands towards House Rowan in Goldengrove and ends near House Florent. Both Houses at each end of the river...with Highgarden nestled in between. I might almost call this marriage match, fated.”

“I call it strategy, your Grace. The Hightowers are our most difficult House to appease. Even the marriage between Leyton’s daughter and my son wasn’t enough to patch that. You have given my nephew an auspicious title that will require him to spend most of his time in Kings Landing. You say it’s an honorable council seat that puts him there, and he’s senseless enough to believe it. Meanwhile he is about to become a well-fed hostage and has no idea. Nor will he care as long as he has a bloody seat. He will give you his loyalty should you need it...whether by choice or demand.”

The old woman laughed...a bitter sound. 

“You elevate an ambitious man to serve as an prominent doorman to the river. Open or close as the King commands. If we fought this...and war came we would lose. The Hightowers would let Dorne take The Arbor if my nephew chose to stand with us...so he won’t. Either way we have the Hightowers, Redwynes, Florents, coming from the South. I imagine the Westerlands will offer Goldengrove some assistance, perhaps men sailing down the river where House Rowen can come down from the North.”

Ned couldn’t help but notice Lady Olenna. Her eyes hard and raised only on Elia.

“This is all with minimum effort, for most of this is our own region collapsing upon itself. All our borders are surrounded by regions where the Lord Paramount’s are tied to the royal family: the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Stormlands,...along with the Prince of Dorne.”

The old woman sat forward with her arms resting on the sides of her chair, hands clasped before her. 

“Is there any other point you’d like to mentioned?”

“You are quiet astute Lady Olenna. My sister-wife has spoken much about your gift of robust honesty. She attributes it to why you have lived such a long life.”

“Hmmm...you and Queen Lyanna seem very...friendly, I would say.”

“I suppose we are. Now to answer your question. The King intends to ask Lord Tarly for his son, Dickon, to serve as a squire...to him personally. Hmmmm....what an honor to a military man to have his son squire for the King himself. Though I truly hope you don’t see what we have shared with you as a loss for the Tyrells. Instead I hope you view it as how much growth interest the Iron Throne has in making sure the Reach, as a whole, knows that it is highly valued by the ruling Targaryens.”

“That’s one way to put it. You gift our enemies or ambitious Houses...resulting in a loss of allegiance towards House Tyrell.”

“I do not see why you would need to split allegiances within the Reach. It was you Lady Olenna who said, _I think we have proven ourselves very devout to the Crown._ You have not lost anything, other than a seat on the small council. You still retain your Lord Paramount status. Your heir isn’t being made to take the Black. We even intend to honor that marriage alliance. Including you...into the royal family. I am at a loss as to why you would be concerned with alliances in the Reach. All roads appear quite prosperous for the region and House Tyrell...especially if Ser Loras accepts the post as Kingsguard...his indiscretions never to be revealed.”

The Queen of Thornes smacked her lips as her lips began to form a somewhat defeated smile.

“I understand why you are here now. I am not sure why Lord Stark is here. Would you like to enlighten us?”

Ned didn’t want to speak. He thought everyone, especially Elia has been clear on the purpose as to why they were here, but it seemed the old lady found it compulsory to needle all in her sphere. 

“I am here to offer Queen Elia support in any way she sees fit. And should my presence not serve as enough of a reminder, note then that the Crown could have been harsher with their punishment for disloyalty. I am also here to remind you, that should _you_ incite a war then the North will answer the call to come South once again.” Ned looked at the old woman, his gray gaze flat and unwavering.

“Well.” The grand dame sat back as she shook her head, and raised a cup to her lips. “Duly noted, my Lord. Rest assure you can keep your armies North. We have no intent on destroying ourselves.”

“Then I believe we have completed our business. You have some decisions to make before we leave for King’s Landing in a few days.”

Elia rose and all in attendance followed as well.

“Viserys and Daeron, would you give me a moment with the Tyrells. Ned, I would like you to remain.” 

Ned nodded as he watched the younger men walk away from the veranda. He noticed the Queen watched as well. Once they and their guards had disappeared from view, Elia walked over to the basket she had brought with her. She lifted a box out and walked carefully back to the table; placing it gently before the Tyrells. 

“I have spoken to you but this...this is a message from my husband...from the King you pledged fidelity to.” 

Ned noticed her voice was controlled, not galling or goading. She was brisk, but humane. Her deep sigh tells Ned that this moment is harder for her than the whole of the previous conversation. 

“He wants to remind you of the importance to trust, loyalty, and reliability. He requires...,” She shook her head, as though the words were not correct.

“...no they are essentials qualities to a positive relationship between him and the Houses who swore an oath to him. He was angered by your deceitful omissions, but I think he was unguarded, for he trusted you absolutely.”

Elia’s hand trembled as she brushed her long fingers across the cover of the box.

“This incident reminded him of what can happen when trust is broken. In honor of the trust you once shared, it was his desire to remind you as well to help ensure the relationship between House Tyrell and the Crown. That is what this is. He said looking at it helped him to remember and to renew. He hopes it does the same for you.”

The Tyrells looked at each other, nervous indecision presenting differently on their faces, but there nevertheless. It was the matriarch that prodded on.

“What is it then, Queen Elia?”

“I think this is better left seen than explained.”

Ned was curious as to what was in the box, but then this moment felt filled with a sense of dread. He didn’t want Elia to uncover the package, but that is what she had done, and in doing so the sides of the box fell; revealing its content.

The horrified gasp by Lady Olenna and her grandson, and the retching that followed by Lord Tyrell did nothing to quell Ned’s desire to leave this place. There before them all sat a large skull. Elia turned the flatten box so that the Tyrells could see the crude engraving of a horrible death...and the name Lannister carved below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. I know I was heavy handed with the Tyrells, but I wanted them to retain their face, but destabilize their alliances. I also wanted to make use of the Mander River. Aside from a few sections that are hard to navigate and which require a skilled crew to maneuver around, the river is wide and powerful. Many wars are won or lost based on how waterways are used. The Mander is relatively left alone. At the opening of the Mander you'd think there would be a city large enough to rival Oldtown, but there is nothing there. The closest landmark of note is Brightwater Keep. So I thought it fun to control the body of water which is important to the region. 
> 
> I have introduced the idea of Stannis returning...a little bit more about him in the epilogue. I have an idea for him that I think most might hate, but I'm going there...lol. 
> 
> Now you might be saying, hey how did you make all these alliances...the answer is...its fanfiction...lol. Assume that many houses are already at the capital. The Red Keep can only hold so many people. Great Houses are pretty much guaranteed a spot, but everyone else has to figure out it out. So let your imagination go with they had to get their early to find a place to temporarily set up their households.
> 
> Now the next chapter is Rhaenys and Robb's wedding!!!!! Finally. We will also see Daenerys POV as well. This chapter is halfway written so hopefully I can print over the weekend. After that we have Rhaegar's marriage interlude and the epilogue. The epilogue is written so...in the grand scheme of things my writing is almost done!!!!
> 
> As always thanks in advance for reading, your supportive comments, and constructive criticisms.
> 
> ~winter


	17. Each New Chapter is its Own Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaenys has a meaningful conversation with a man from the North on the night before her wedding. She considers the men in her life and the impact they have had as she readies to marry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all from Rhaenys POV...but I think she deserves her own chapter...I mean it is her wedding. :P
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing

While she might not admit it to her parents or perhaps anyone else, save Robb, Rhaenys didn’t know if she had believed in the gods anymore, but it seems she must had retained some faith since she found herself vacillating between praying or pleading. In hindsight she can’t find a difference between the two acts other than one is done with a false sense of confidence and the other is motivated by fear once the lie you have told yourself no longer works. 

Rhaenys didn’t think she had a word in the four languages she spoke to describe the sense of relief upon seeing Robb and her sister return. The fear had lessened once they had arrived, but it wasn’t until she saw her mother descend from her carriage that Rhae could finally take a true breath. She was here; thanks the Gods they had all returned. 

Now all where here: family and noblemen. Including the Tyrells, as Lady Margaery and Ser Loras arrived with her stepmother a sennight ago and Lord Tyrell arrived with his household. The chatter abounded that a new royal wedding was to take place shortly after her own. 

Rhae would feel sorry for Aemon, but as she observed her brother it appeared that he enjoyed the Lady’s company. She didn’t quite understand their dynamics. When she shared her thoughts privately with him he laughed and told her, “Lady Margaery and I have an understanding of sorts.”

While she had her own reservations, she trusted her brother enough to respect this grasp of the situation. In the sennight her mother has been home there have been many private meetings between her parents and the Tyrells; along with other combinations of Lords with influence from the Reach. It seemed as though the face presented to Court is calm, but she was aware of the underlying tension. 

Her mother and Ashara along with Lia and Vissy have kept Rhaenys too busy to focus on it. She appreciates their efforts but she’d rather have knowledge and prepare for the potential trouble rather than to be blinded and unready. The matters in her father’s court are not the only things that weigh on her mind. Shortly after the ceremony she will move North. She will leave her family and be on her own for the very first time in her life. 

In the past year since her formal betrothal, she has spoken with her mother at length about what leaving her home _might be_ like for her. She’s shared her fears with Robb about being accepted by his bannermen with her being a Targaryen, and even told his sisters of some concerns she had about fitting in as a woman who doesn’t _look_ Northern.

Everyone tried to reassure her in their own way, but now it was the eve of her wedding and she finds those fears clawing at her joy of marrying Robb. The cuts sting and once again remind her of her worries. As Rhaenys’s maid stands behind her to remove the pins from her hair, a sharp knock at the door stops the woman, the message from her guard causes her to stand. 

“Princess Rhaenys. A letter for you, your Grace.”

Her maid opens the door allowing the guard entrance. Rhaenys notices the script on the paper and she finds herself surprised by the scrawl as it is a penmanship she has seen before. 

“Rhae! What is that?” Queen Elia’s voice carried from the doorway as she walked in. The decorative coins on her head scarf shimmed when she moved, they made a gentle jingle which announced her presence before she even spoke. 

“A letter. I think it's from Lord Stark.” 

Rhaenys turns away from the people in her room. She barely hears her mother excusing the guard and maid for the time being. Opening the seal with the Stark sigil, she careful takes in the short contents of the letter.

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense dear.”

“Lord Stark would like to meet with me.”

“Now?”

“Yes, it would seem so, but only if I am agreeable. It seems as though he has tried to get my attention, but I have been unavailable and he did not want to disturb the itinerary.”

“What do you plan to do?”

Rhaenys let out a nervous laughter. 

“I am going to honor his request for a meeting. He is to be my good-father in matter of hours.”

The Queen made a quiet noise of acceptance. 

“Why don’t you meet in my apartments? I can give you privacy, but still be near.” Her mother offered, as she brushed a loose strand of hair away from Rhaenys face.

“Yes. I think that would be best. Thank you, Mother.”

Rhaenys sent one of her four guards to see Lord Stark, as she walked to her mother’s chambers to wait for him. 

After sitting and sharing a cup of Arbor Red, a quiet knock from the door silenced both women.

“Your Grace, Lord Stark has arrived.”

“Please come in.” Rhaenys watched as her mother stood and turned towards the door. She quickly followed suit.

“Lord Stark.” A suppressed smile on the older woman’s face and a subtle head tilt. 

“My Queen. I apologize for the hour, but I found myself with little recourse.”

“I understand. Weddings can be trying at the best of time. I imagine you remember you own.”

“I do, but that wasn’t this. It wasn’t a grand affair. There was no time for it.”

Her mother dipped her head and nodded. 

“Of course. It was wartime. Well in that case, you have no point of true reference.” Her smile shone, edging Lord Stark’s smile as well. 

“Weddings are tiresome but royal weddings, my Lord, well there is nothing quite like it. Nonetheless, I believe you would like some time with your future good-daughter. I will make myself scarce, and afford you some privacy.”

Rhaenys took in the warmth of her mother’s soft lips against her cheek. The young woman had noticed the gentle pat her mother placed on Lord’s Stark’s arm as she walked past him. 

“Princess Rhaenys.”

“Lord Stark”

“Perhaps you will find it acceptable to call me Eddard when we are in private and among family.” The older man dipped his head with a questioning gaze in his stare.

Rhaenys noticed that Robb had the tendency to do that himself. It pushed a small laugh out of her. “Yes, I can do that, Eddard. I hope it is with that same spirit that you call me Rhaenys and maybe one day, Rhae.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Please have a seat.” She gestured for the man to take the seat placed before her. 

“May I offer you some wine or I can send for ale?”

“Wine is fine, Rhaenys.” She kept her composure as she thought about what he could have wanted her for. The matter could not be too dire as the wedding was the next day. 

“How may I help you Lord Stark?” Having limited interaction with her future good-father, Rhae fell on what she knew best, courtesy and protocols. In her world it is how the realm worked. 

“May I speak frankly, Rhaenys?”

“Does a Northerner know any other way to speak?”

The older man laughed loudly behind his cup. 

“You either have been properly educated from someone with understanding of the North or you are drawing from your own experiences.”

Rhae let out a small chuckle. “If I might be so bold, I can admit the truth lies somewhere in between. But to answer your question, yes, speak freely.”

Lord Stark, Eddard, she reminded herself, took a deep breath before moving to sit on the edge of the chair; his forearms resting on his knees and his Stark gray eyes on her. 

“I am here for you.”

“For me?” Rhae was unsure of his motivation.

“I know you love my son, but this marriage is more than that. While you and my son have affection, this marriage is very political. It is tied to our families past. Targaryens and Starks. It connected by the present. Rhaegar and Lyanna. All the time in between there has been an overall sense that we had a good relationship.”

“But that was not the truth.”

“When one party holds power and the other has less, then the lesser will have no choice but to work alongside the party with more influence. To do the opposite serves to hurt the lesser party. Just because we did not complain loudly, doesn’t mean all the Starks or the North was happy, nor that we always agreed that the relationship was good.”

“Your father and my sister, that--” Rhae sat silent as she watched a quiet and reserve man struggle to find the words he need to say. 

“When they left with each other, they move the curtain that kept both parties on their respective sides. They set off a chain of reactions that still have living ramifications. The North destroyed itself in its allegiance to my House for my sister, then for my father and brother, and finally for me. There are some Houses that still harbor resentment.”

Rhaenys kept her eyes on the man. He seemed to carry the weight of what her father and stepmother had done. Another ghost it seems. How they all had to live with Rhaegar and Lyanna’s ghost. She wondered if she should find comfort in the idea that she was not alone. 

“We kept our distance from the Crown. A mutual agreement that served both the North and the Crown. But now things have changed; when in truth not all has changed for the better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Many of my bannermen are leery of you coming North. Part of that is because you are of the South, but mainly because you are Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter. When Robb sought to ask for your hand I told him that he was mad to do so. He encouraged me to ask the North.”

“I imagine that did not go well.”

“It went better than I thought. My people learned to love my wife. She always felt a bit excluded, but they respected her. She learned how to live like a Northerner, well as a Northern High Lord’s wife. There was some concern that you could not do the same. Some had expressed a desire for a Northern match.”

“If that is so, then why approve this match.” Rhaenys voice held a large trace of unease.

“It was Robb. He told them how much the North and Dorne had in common. Both disrespected and harmed by the Crown. Both people that the Andal laden South didn’t understand. We’re too Northern and their too Dornish. We are a harder breed of people raised to live in extreme climates. An experience to respect, not to insult.”

“The men are fierce in a way that goes beyond southern knighthood, much like our own. The women are just as fierce. He reminded them that though you bore the name Targaryen, you were raised there and therefore a woman of Dorne and in the end only one of those factors would change.”

“Oh Robb, so pragmatic and optimistic. How does that even reconcile itself into one person?” Rhaenys asked out loud. 

Eddard’s deep chuckled tugged at her own smile. 

“I think one of the most interesting comment made was by Lady Maege Mormont. She said you didn’t come from just any Dornish woman; you came from the one woman who had outlived the machinations of your father.”

“Oh!” Rhaenys brow rose in surprise.

“I think you’d find an ally in her. The women of Bear Island are probably much like the women of Dorne. Though I imagine they are dressed better for the weather.”

After a bit of silence, Rhaenys tried to make sense of this discussion. 

“Was this conversation meant to alleviate my fears or add to them?”

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted you to be aware that there are people who live with the losses the rebellion brought. There is still some anger and outrage, but there are people who are pleased by the match. Well, pleased by Northern standards.”

“I see.”

“You will have your new family there. Rely on us. Rely on Robb. Don’t hide what you are thinking or feeling. Don’t ignore disrespect. We will not abide that. We will help you. Robb will help you find your way and your place in your new home. You being the Lady of Winterfell and feeling like you are in command of that role is paramount.”

“I worry often about fitting in. I can be independent and fierce, clothed myself in Northern colors and furs, but I cannot change the color of my skin or the inflection of my voice. Those parts of me will always remind them that I am different. I am unlike any kind of person they may have seen.”

The man nodded.

“I have told my sons we find our true friends on the battlefield. The Northern winters can be long and brutal. How they are managed? That is your battleground. If you maintain that aspect of our survival well, then you will be seen as friend. They will not care about those things that you cannot change because they will not matter when you have proven yourself to be a good Lady of Winterfell. I will not lie and say you will be accepted immediately, but I have faith that in time you will be.”

Rhaenys sat quietly and pondered his words. She thought of Robb’s idealism on this point. There would be some storms but they would weather them together. She considered his sisters affirmations that love for her will come once she marries Robb. 

Here she was being told that she was approved and wanted by the Starks, yet acceptance by his people would not always be easy. She had some allies, foes, and others who were reserving judgement. She would have to prove herself. If she does that well, then she would have earned their respect; along with her place among the Northerners and as the Lady of Winterfell. 

That seemed more resilient than attaching her acceptance solely to what Robb means to the North. Her mother had attached her acceptance to her Father and at the sacking of Kings Landing she had no one. No one except for Ser Jaime, and that relationship was borne out of respect and trust. 

Yes, earned respect and trust were so much more durable than a by-product attachment. That was what she wanted for herself. A soft smile began to bloom on her face, and Eddard’s furrowed brow began to lift. 

“Eddard, do not look so worried, for you came and told me the words I didn’t know I needed to hear. You have pushed away some worries by confirming them, and offering a solution that combats them.”

She took a sip of wine. 

“I have such tenderness in my heart for Robb. I want to be his wife. I know I can be a good one to him. I am aware that becoming the Lady of Winterfell means something. I do not go into this blind of the history between our families. Knowing all that I discern, I am comforted by your words and I am eager to begin my future with Robb as his Lady.” 

The Lord took her hand in his. 

“I speak to you now as a father. What you have said is all a father can hope for. My wife, politically she would have had reservations about the match for she harbored her own resentments against the Crown. But as a mother, my Cat would have wanted a woman who was willing to stand by our son; to serve as a strength for him and for our family. Do you know her House words?”

Rhaenys felts her eyes begin to tear.

“Family, duty, honor.”

“Yes. She understood the practicalities of _Winter is Coming_ , but she better understood family and the duty we have to them. Honor was important but not to the detriment of the family. For years we argued on the merits of it until she reminded me of one of my more frequent sayings, the lone wolf--”

“--dies, but the pack survives.” Rhaenys finished.

“Ah, seems you know some of our words.”

“Arya has been teaching me. I can see how that is a take on putting family first.”

“While her words are Tully and not Stark, they are imprinted into the code of our House through our children. I feel like that is something you value as well; family first. Yes, I think my wife would have approved of you for Robb.”

Rhae had fought losing her tears and took a quick sniff. Eddard’s kind smile told her he could see the tears in her eyes, but was too polite to say so.

“It is late and you have a big day tomorrow.”

Rhaenys rose and bid Eddard a goodnight. As the door closed behind him, Rhaenys heard her mother’s door open. She felt the woman’s warm presence behind her. 

“Is all well daughter?”

Rhaenys considers her mother’s question and nods. 

“Yes.”

The evening passed quietly with only thoughts of the future creating a picture in her head; until her eyes closed and the sun rose. She found the quiet gone when her mother and sister woke her with excited voices and joyful smiles on their faces. 

She hadn’t stopped moving since breaking her fast with her mother, grandmother, sister, and cousins. The only mar on that perfect morning was the absence of Lia. She and her mother had been invited to break their fast with the Starks and Rhae encouraged her to do so.

After her meal she had no moments of rest: bathing, oils, hair, cosmetics, and finally dressing. Each layer painstakingly applied one after another. The Dornish women in her family, along with Lady Ashara and Lia, had been there to assist her with her dress and jewelry.

It wasn’t until she stood before the large reflection glass in her chambers that she was hit with the full force of what today signified. She was getting married. She would no longer be Rhaenys the daughter of Elia. A daughter of Dorne. 

No from this view, she could also see that she was the daughter of the King. While she knew who her father was and wasn’t blind to the privilege that relationship afforded her; she had never been set on the world stage as a representative of her House. 

For the first time in her whole life it finally dawned on Rhaenys that it had not mattered what had come before; her own conflicted relationship with her father didn’t count. In the end she was a daughter of House Targaryen, and today she would be tying herself to a homeland that was not her own. 

In this moment she would have to be more than just a bride marrying. She was a Princess. _The Princess_ of the sitting King. She was her father’s daughter regardless of how gnarled that relationship was.

“You look lovely, my sun dragon.” The Queen whispered softly as she stood beside her, both women looking at each other through the reflection.

“Would it be too vain to say I feel so?” Rhae nervously licked her lips as she pressed a hand against her waist.

“Not at all. This might possibly be the one few times in your life where you can truly say so without judgement.” Her mother laughed and squeezed her hand before turning her attention to something Ashara was saying.

Rhae took in her image once again. She is glad she had settled on white.. An unusual color choice in gowns, but she thought white had suited her. It made her feel brave. Funny thing to settle on; a color making one feel brave. She knows the color connects her to the man...

Conservative compared to her sister and cousins, she chose a pattern that was both conventional but comfortable. She was never a lover of clothing that felt to constricting. The weather in Dorne just never allowed for such fashion. 

As she takes in the formality in the style of her bodice, she appreciates the intricate embellishments. They make her think of armor as the gold of the material contrast against the white silk. Then she notices how her sleeves open into a puff of organza; wrapping her arms carefully in such lovely material as it tapers towards her wrist. 

The dress swells outward and down to the ground beneath her. The last pieces to be placed on her are her wedding train and her headpiece. 

A knock on the door announces a visit she had been expecting. She turns to see her brother, or rather, brothers. 

They enter her solar in order of age. She wonders if they are aware they do that. Perhaps Aemon and Daeron always had with Jae, but she wonders if Jae is consciously choosing to follow Aegon. It sent a message to the Court, she thought; a good one. 

“Sister, we wanted to wish you glad tidings before we departed for the Sept.” Jaehaerys spoke, a small smile on his Northern face. 

Rhaenys walks towards him, she finds herself taken slightly aback when she looks at him. How much he resembles her good-father amazes her. He places a dry kiss against her cheek; one she happily accepts. 

“Thank you Jae.”

“Should you find your husband to be disagreeable Sister, feel free to let us know.” She noticed the playful gleam in Aemon’s eyes as he brought her hand to his lips. It made her snicker. This is a dangerous man. 

“I have complete confidence that I shall not need that kind of support, but I will keep it in mind, Brother.”

Aemon stepped back with his trademark smirk firmly in place. 

“My cousin is a good man; that I know. You both are a good match in temperaments. I do wish you the utmost happiness, Rhae.”

“Thank you, Daeron.” She pulled him towards her in hug. This unexpected little brother, who she found herself loving very much. She felt him pull her in gently, and listened as he whispered in her ear. 

“Not that you couldn’t handle Robb on your own, but as Aemon said, should you find yourself in danger, know that if you call...or if I hear any word of your peril, then I will come. Trust that I will come.”

Rhaenys felts her eyes burn. This young man, who really has no reason to care for her as he does, knows of her deepest fear without her having to utter it, and tries to lessen it. He is a god man, she thinks, and a good brother.

Nodding into his shoulder, she pulls way. She smiles at the sons of Rhaegar; her eyes gazing softly from the youngest to the oldest. It is on the oldest they linger just a little bit longer. 

“As I said, we only wanted to see you before we left, which is what me must do now.” Jae broke the moment, and for that she was grateful. 

“I will meet you in the courtyard.” Aegon told their brothers as they began to walk out the door. Almost everyone else in the room said their goodbyes as well since they needed to arrive before her. They all murmured their acknowledgment before the door closed. 

All that remained were her mother, sister, and Aegon.

“Well I am here.” Her brother winked. 

“Yes, you are. Shall we proceed.” Visenya jested as she walked toward the large box that laid on the chaise. 

“While she is preparing. I have something for you, Rhae, but I am unsure if I have waited too long to give it to you. Perhaps I should wait until after the wedding.”

“Nonsense. What is it?”

Rhaenys watches as her brother opens the door. He returns with a slim green and gold box.

“I wanted to give you a wedding gift. A private one. I thought of what I could have done for you, since Father is sending you North well endowed. So, I came up with this.”

Rhaenys watched her typically jovial brother who now radiated complete solemnity. She carefully took the box from him. In her peripheral view she could see her mother and sister standing beside her, both just as eager as she to see the gift. Rhae took great care to remove the golden ribbon, along with the cover of the box.

Vissy held her hands open for Rhae to rest the box on as she gently pulled open the fabric that covered the present. When she saw the object before her, there was a shared gasp between all three women. 

There before them was a beautiful tapestry of white and green, and in it was sewn a story of a young princess learning to fight with her knight; both of them sparring to an audience of a mother, a small brother, and a babe. All of them surrounded by lemon trees.

Her heart clenched tightly in her chest; her breath almost lost. She may be her father’s daughter, but she was shaped by more than just Rhaegar Targaryen. 

Rhaenys looked towards the chest that held her dragon egg and thought of the boy who gave her _“her first dragon, Balerion the Cat”_. 

Then her gaze went towards the box that held a newly gifted staff from her Dornish uncles and she remembered how they clashed with her mother when she hadn’t wanted her to take up arms with her cousins. A skill, a still healing Elia, was initially scared for her to learn. 

All these gifts from men who had shaped her. Now she holds in her hand another memory for her to take as she embarks on her own journey North. A memory of the man who taught her what it meant to be brave; given to her by the boy she hadn’t ever had to live without. 

Turning away from the gift that had left her mother and sister quietly weeping, Rhaenys threw herself into her brother’s arms and held him tightly. 

“Thank you, Aeg. This was more than I had ever expected.” Rhaenys whispered with tears in her voice.

“It seemed only right. Now I think mother and Vissy have put themselves together. I believe it is your turn.”

“Oh posh, look at your kohl. This can be repaired quickly.” Their mother primed to remove any traces that her face was less than flawless. “You two get the train ready.”

Once her mother deemed her ready, she stood before the mirror. Behind her stood her brother as he held her train at the center of its length; her mother and sister fastening at her back what was once Ser Jaime’s Kingsguard cloak. The material embroidered in the same armored color and style as her bodice. 

She took a deep breath when her brother held her capped veil over her head, as her mother and sister pinned it to her hair with pearl-inlay clips that had once belonged to her grandmother Lorenza. They had been a gift from her grandmother Rhaella upon Lorenza’s own marriage. It seemed fitting that they now rested on the head of their shared granddaughter. 

“Beautiful.” Her mother whispered. 

A knock at the door announced that her father had arrived. Rhae watched his reflection as he walked towards her, a black cloak in hand. 

“By the Gods Elia, she is you reborn.”

Her mother laughed, her shoulders shaking gently. 

“There is a likeness.”

Rhaenys was proud of that. She always saw her mother as someone to emulate. A flawed woman, but a good one, but then that might be her bias showing. 

“You two must go. The carriage awaits.” Rhaegar informs her siblings. They kiss her cheek briskly, then their mother’s before departing. 

Her father stands before her, his eyes tracking her face, until a soft smile takes his. She notices a scroll in his hand and wonders what it could be. He sees her notice and hold the scroll out to her.

“What is this?” She takes the parchment from him as she begins to unravel the document.

“I wrote this the day you were born.”

Rhaenys eyes travel over the words but not reading them, the parchment was old and faded, the ink embedded in a way only time would allow for. She sees a difference between the older passages and some that seemed to be newer.

“Have you added to it since then?”

“I have. I added when I thought I lost you. I added when I had dreams about you afterwards. I wrote more when you returned, and now I have added one more part.” Rhaegar cleared his throat.

Rhaenys read the parchment. It read like a poem of sorts. It brought up many feelings she wasn’t sure she wanted to address; but one thing was clear, this man may not have always done right by her but he had loved her. 

Once again she thought of the men in her life. They all shaped her in their own way and she would be remiss if she hadn’t added her father. Her experience with him may not have been ideal when compared to the others, but he did have a part in who she was. 

They may not always agree but they are forever bonded.

Rhaenys handed the scroll to her mother as she faced her father. He took her hands in his, placing a long gentle kiss on her forehead. Before pulling away he whispered beside her ear.

“I cannot promise that my ghosts will never rise again, but if they do, I will do all that I can to keep them away from you and our family. I can only hope that you see that these are not pretty words but a statement of fact. I do not promise success, only my intent to mitigate as much as I can, my fierce little dragon.”

Rhaenys took a deep breath while releasing a trembled one. She knew her father believed his own words, and in honesty she knew that he would prefer his ghost to remain dead. Unfortunately we don’t always get what we want when we want it. That she is old enough to know. Only time would tell though. She would be ready for the ghosts; even if they never came again. 

Her father turned towards her mother, Rhae witnessing the bittersweet smile shared between them as they both draped her wedding cloak onto her back. She knew this moment was inevitable, she would always be King Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter, but it warmed her to know that her Ser Jaime was there too...as were the others.

The ride to the Sept felt shorter than usual. The building was full to the brim. Rhaenys saw little else as she walked with her father towards Robb. Her eyes focused on her auburn-haired man standing in his House colors. The gray taking center stage with smatterings of white and a direwolf sigil displayed proudly for all to see.

Surrounded by the people who knew them best Rhaenys looked over at Robb as he kissed her hand before placing it in his own. He gave the High Septon a nod, and the older man began the long task of binding them to each other for eternity.

Once they had reached the end of the ceremony, she had been cloaked with the Stark sigil. Her white dress under the gray of her wedding cloak. Rhaenys hoped the North would see this, and it might move her a step closer to acceptance. Not a Targaryen symbol on her person. She comes to Robb, and to the North, as herself. 

The High Septon permits a wedded kiss, and Robb quickly lift her veil. He holds her face between his calloused palms and he draws her into a kiss. Helpless to stop her own affections, Rhaenys places her hands over his as she happily allows herself to be swept up in the moment. 

The round of applauses from those nearest to them grabs their attention and they pull apart. Her eyes stayed attached to his and she sees the same hope and joy she feels reflected in his eyes. Yes, Rhaenys thought, there were no guarantees in marriage but with this man she had the best chance at a worthy future.

Once they had arrived to the wedding feast, her sister and cousin Tyene helped her to remove her train. It was folded and draped lovingly on an emerald green chair that sat beside Visenya. The chair she knew her father had allowed. She doesn't know why he had allowed it. But she found gratefulness in the gesture; as did Ser Jaime’s sister, Lady Marbrand when she replied to Rhaenys’s request to have such a place for her brother. Rhae noted the softens that appeared on the cold woman's face when her eyes saw the chair.

The chair had colorful snakes intertwined in the detailed carving, with a horse head on each side of the chair’s back. Though he was once a lion, Ser Jaime shed his House colors long ago. Emerald green was the color he wore best and it was the color, aside from white, that she associated with him. He had taught her how to care for horses. He was an avid horseman who lived and thrived in a world of vipers. 

Now his cloak rested on it, and it felt fitting for Rhaenys to know it was there. She turned her attention to Robb and there it remained, as it should, on him for the rest of the day. 

As the afternoon turned to night, the feast continued. A few odd couplings caught her eye. Her mother and Queen Lyanna seated with Lady Olenna. Lord Willas and Aegon drinking with her brother Jae and her Uncle Oberyn. Aemon and Margaery were never apart, the younger woman pulling her brother’s attention whenever Lady Mrycella walked by. She knew there was politicking happening at her wedding, but it didn’t bother her as much as she thought it might. 

Robb sent her a look at spoke of his desire for them to be alone, and she found herself wanting the same thing. She caught her sister’s eye, a plan they had worked out for just this moment. Rhaenys watched as her sister diplomatically walked over to their father who was in conversations with Lord Hightower and Lord Tyrell. 

Whatever they spoke about was easily interrupted by her younger sister. The Lords laughing quietly with each other as they eyed her father with mirth. Her father looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else. She found herself dipping her head as to avoid his seeing her merriment at his expense. 

“My Lords, Ladies, Wedding Guest. It seems we have come to the end of the evening for the wedded couple. I have decided not to allow a traditional bedding ceremony at the request of the bride and groom.”

Robb squeezed Rhaenys hand, and she pressed his hand to her lips before she whispered.

“Forgive me Robb.”

An auburn brow lifted in confusion until he heard her father’s next word, to which a look of humored disbelief took over. 

“The bride will be escorted by her brothers to her chamber’s.”

“Her four brothers who are well-regarded with a sword.” Daeron called out, to which the crowd laughed in reply.

“Yes, that is quite right Daeron. As for the groom, he will be escorted...by the Ladies of Dorne.”

A female war cry erupted from the table where her Dornish cousins sat. The women began to move toward the dais. 

“All ladies, feel free to join us.” Visenya encouraged.

Rhaenys bit her lip as she walked towards her brothers. As she strolled away, two brothers in front and two behind, she spied as Robb was being pulled away in the opposite direction. Rhaenys released a loud laugh that shook her. She noticed that her brothers shared smug grins as well. 

“You know this has the potential to come back to you. Robb is a bit of a trickster.” Jae spoke as he turned to look at her. 

“I know. I fear you may be right, but did you see the look on his face. Clearly it was worth the retribution to come.”

Her brothers continued to share in her jape until they came to her room. She bid them all a goodnight as her maid helped her prepare for the bedding. The woman hadn’t been gone long, when her door burst open with Robb being thrusted inside with nothing but his breeches. 

He hadn’t seen her before he spoke. “That was uncalled for, my La--”

His voice dropped when he saw her standing before the bed in a gown that left little to the imagination...a gift from her Uncle Oberyn’s paramour, Ellaria. At first Rhaenys felt vulnerable standing before him, but as soon as she saw the heat rage in his blue eyes she had only one thought. She wanted him to be hers, and so she took the wolf into her bed as a fierce sun dragon would be known to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is what Rhaenys and her dressed looked like in my headcanon.
> 
>   
>   
> 
> 
> So what did you think? It is a bit fluffy but it is a wedding...
> 
> A reader had suggested seeing Rhaenys and Ned speak...but also Ned and Rhaegar and I thought that those conversation would be good to see...now I tried to make it happen. Thank you to whoever made the suggestion. Another person had mentioned gifting her a painting of Jaime...so I went with a tapestry.
> 
> Next up...Ned and Rhaegar speak. Daenerys received a letter from her brother the King.
> 
> We only have an interlude and an epilogue...and one of those two is already done. I will post the next chapter on Friday (its already written). If I can get that interlude done by Friday we might be done with this part of the series by Sunday/Monday...whoop whoop).


	18. A Past That Never Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Rhaegar have a frank conversation. Dany receives a letter from her brother, the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I've just had fun playing with them.

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With the departure of his son and good-daughter for the evening, Ned took in the scene before him. While the bedding ceremony, abridged as it was, signaled the end of the feast, there seemed to be no evidence that the celebration was coming to a close. Having done his duty as the father of the bridegroom, he thought to seek a few moments of solitude as the requirement of pretense the South requires was exhausting to his person.

He found himself thinking about Lady Dayne as he sauntered down the path that led to an overview of the city and the seaside. It was a profound relief to see that his letter to Ashara hadn't been so forward as to push her away from him. Her response left him feeling heartened. 

While they had too many responsibilities to abscond with each other and marry in haste, they were to make plans to transition to that same end. Ned knew he needed to go back North for now. His people needed to see his trust and support of his son and new good-daughter. 

Northerners needed to witness the gradual passing of power. In doing so, he sends a message to his bannermen and his people that Robb and Rhaenys were not only the Lord and Lady of Winterfell in name but in truth. However, that complete understanding wouldn't occur until his death, but he could make noise in that direction. 

Ashara has her commitments to see through. Her nephew is coming to the end of his fostering. A young man of seventeen, he will return to Starfall in 4 moons, and Ashara, rightfully so, wants to be there for him to not only pass on the reigns but to provide support. She loves her nephew much and their House. His Lady made it clear that she would not abandon her nephew during this transition, just as Ned would not leave his son. 

While they may need to remain physically separated from each other for a little bit longer, they are committed to building a life with one another. He and Ashara have never been traditional; he supposes, so why would they depart from their established pattern now. 

Then there is Lia. Her life would be here in the Capital. Perhaps their path would keep them in Kings Landing. The specifics they were unsure of, but in regards to the results, they agreed. 

A gentle breeze came off of the water, coating the air with sea salt. Ned went to the end of the path before another lane began on the right of it. The divergence following the bend of the wall as it paralleled the direction of the sea. The night was silent until Ned suspected he wasn't alone. The stillness of the night disturbed by an unseen force.

Ned slowly turned his head to the right only to wish he had not done so. Standing quietly, with his own head turned to look at Ned stood the King. 

"Your Grace."

"Lord Stark."

"It seems the day's festivities have left us in need of some peace."

"It would seem so, your Grace."

"I suppose in light of today's events, it would be appropriate to dismiss with formalities."

"If it wouldn't be too much of an imposition, I'd rather keep the formalities in place."

The terse silence had resumed between the men.

"Ordinarily I would oblige, but unfortunately for my daughter...for my children...I cannot immediately grant that request." Rhaegar's voice was low and brusque.

The other man's response momentarily struck Ned. They always kept things separate; it was the only way they could continue to subsist in some bastardized version of harmony.

"We are to be grandfathers thrice over, with two sets of those children raised in the North...raised near you. When they are young, they will not notice the how's and why of our distance, but when older, they will. I do not want my children to have to carry that strain, but I know it is too late. I do not want them to pass it on to their children. I am hopeful that there is still time to prevent that."

"It seems like that would be more an issue for you than for me. I do not carry the baggage that you do. Why would I be inclined to take away some of your load?"

The King's dark laugh sounded more like deprecation to his ears. 

"I know I will always have to answer for my behavior when it comes to my family. I do not ask that you take it away. I just would try to limit how much of that toxicity seeps into our future grandchildren."

"You ask a great deal, King Rhaegar," Ned muttered. The man's name on his tongue turning the last taste of ale into ash.

"So, it seems, but I must ask anyway."

Ned turned his head to look at the man dressed in his royal finery, a crown on his head. The arrogance required to ask Ned to feel or act differently towards him because he would like to lessen how negatively their future grandchildren would see him. He nor Lyanna are deserving of such assistance and least of all from him. 

"Haven't the Starks given you enough...and for what." Ned shook his head in dismay.

"Queen Lyanna told me why you came together. She told me about the prophecy. You could imagine my shock upon hearing her words, her reasonings. For what I ask you? My father, brother, the Northmen...my future l forfeited for senselessness."

"I was a different man then, but I will not disagree with you on what the past cost you. I am sorry for that. More than you could possibly know."

"It appears you are in a phase of life where apologies are amounting at such a rate as to match the erroneous decisions of your past, your Grace."

Ned saw the twitching of the other man's jaw.

"It would appear so."

The man, the father, the husband, could not stay silent any longer.

"In the end, you spared my life but took my sons. You've made it harder for my heir to have the allegiance of our people. Robb has been able to work within that constraint. He's earned most of my bannermen respect and that of the North since his return. If things had been different, then he wouldn't have had to work harder to regain what should have naturally been bestowed upon him. "

"I have two more sons who remember patches of their childhoods with their mother and I. They seek confirmation in letters to help decipher if recollections of the past are dreams or memories. One intent on staying South while the other clamors to go as far North as he can."

"Do you understand that my wife died with having not seen their faces, their names on her lips: a punishment she had not deserved, and a penalty I am forced to live with. I do not want your apologies. I want you to fix it, but since you can't, there is naught else to say."

The King averted his gaze; his stare returned to the water. Ned wanted to howl at the wind. His desire to tear this man apart was strong. He wanted retribution, but he couldn't have it. It just became another thing he could not change. 

"Were it possible.." Rhaegar began.

"Please do not continue, your Grace. We both know after everything that has occurred in recent times, my sons must stay where they are. It isn't possible, so it serves no one to utter more meaningless words. Even if it were, my sons are honorable enough to stay where they are until they complete their fostering. That is how they have been raised to be."

Rhaegar's deep breath floated away with another gust of the sea breeze. "Hmmm...honor...a trait I still work hard to master."

Ned cut his eyes away from the other man. While he knows he can hold his honor most high, he doesn't understand why a _King_ would struggle with the concept. "You either have learned it long ago or you never will. Life serves as a daily exercise for this ability." 

The King lifted his head, his brow quirked in a way that his nephew Aemon is typically known to do.

"There are different kinds of honor or honorable acts. It appears that Stannis holds his honor most high." The King spoke faintly, but Ned still heard him.

"The Queen told me of your letter to him. I take it he denied the request."

"Yes, he did. Said he made an oath regardless of how it came to be. He told me to pass his sympathies to his brother's wife."

"Not the answer, I imagine you foresaw."

"I had hoped for a different response, but it was Jae who warned me against it—reminding me once again of how some view the Night's Watch. As first Ranger, he said he had made peace with his lot. Still, upon discussions with Maester Aemon, he was convinced that correspondence between him and his nephews would be marginally acceptable." 

"Jae is right, the Night's Watch isn't just a place to send your undesirables. For some, it is a noble cause. For the Stark's, it is a commitment we find _honor in_."

"If you truly understood what that calling meant, then you would not have bothered to add insult by sending the letter. The Black is not some task one does to pass the time. You make an oath and stay true to it. Stannis is an honorable man. I didn't doubt him. I never really considered he'd accept your _pardon_. When a man takes the Black, he does so until the end of his days. At this point, Stannis could never be anything other than Brother of the Night's Watch. _You made him that._ "

Ned had to bite the inside of his cheek to stave off any further vitriol. It wasn't that the man before him didn't deserve it, but there would always be a limit with Rhaegar, for there is a line that will afford him protection since he is King. Once he found his composure, he cleared his throat before sharing a thought he had only disclosed to Ashara.

"There is a minuscule part of me though that wishes you could undo the wrong you have done to him, but then if you could, I'd want your power to correct more than just Stannis's outcome. 

The silence had returned—the older man looking as if he were searching for the right words to say. Ned thought in this circumstance that such terms didn't exist. Not for Ned, not for Stannis, and not for Robert or his House.

"I can admit now that I moved with haste in regards to Stannis. My desire to undo that for him is irrelevant. I recognize that my offer was improvident. Since the man has decided to stay, there is nothing I can do about it after all. I flipped the coin and how it landed is how it will remain. Do not think I am unaware of the shortsightedness of my past decision regarding Stannis?"

"But like the bulk of your life choices, you cannot undo it. Out of curiosity, what do you plan to do now with the Stormlands?"

"I am considering leaving the Stormlanders to select two advisors to my sister, a House from the islands and the Marshes. Each has different motivations, needs, concerns. All can have a voice in the way the Stormlands develops."

"That might work. In the end, your sister is the one to make the final decisions regarding the region. Her children, though, are not without kin. Their paternal grandmother's family still resides there."

"Yes they do. I expect they will nominate someone from their House. I intend to send my mother to remain with her for a while. The Stormlanders may not have love for me or my father, but they do think well of my mother. Many are not intimidated by her. But unbeknownst to them, she finds a way into their graces and, in doing so, makes for a good emissary. My sister can learn much from her."

Ned found he had to release a pent up breath of his own. His desire to seek a reprieve did not fare the way he had hoped for speaking with Rhaegar has not brought him peace. His mind returns to why Rhaegar and Lyanna ran away.

"I can't help but think this could have been avoided, the losses, the deaths, the brokenness of it all. Robert was not perfect. I know that. I can admit that my love for the man had made me a bit more forgiving of his less than endearing behaviors. He had loved my sister, though, or the thought of her. In that way, you and he are very much the same. Did that thought ever occur to you in the years that have passed?"

Rhaegar walked closer to Ned. It was then that he saw Ser Arthur and three other Kingsguard come out of their hiding spots. "Robert and I were..."

"Alike. You both struggled with the concept of blanketed honor. Many do. He found honor in fighting and you in your prophetic cause. You were honorable in some ways, but not in others. Both of you found enjoyment outside the marriage bed and brought forth children from such unions. I knew Robert to care deeply for his daughter, and by all accounts, you were thought of as a devoted father as well."

The King's indigo colored eyes showed Ned no emotion. His affect was neutral, but Ned could sense the man was bracing himself.

"Your sister wasn't just some women."

"Perhaps not, but she also wasn't your wife."

The King's jaw muscled rippled as the man clenched his jaw. Ned couldn't help but notice how weighted the man always seemed to be. _I guess we should find some satisfaction that he feels something other than the righteous arrogance he displayed decades ago_.

"You both thought you knew my sister...knew her well enough to fight for her. I know you saw your Visenya in Lyanna. As my father's only daughter, she was loved by all so much so. She learned how to ride, hunt, and even fight with a sword or hand. These were things she desired and worked hard to master such skills well. A true Northern woman she appeared to be."

"Are you telling me she was not what she appeared to be? My wife was those things. Lyanna has proven to be a commanding Queen."

"She was, but she also attained it fairly easily. There was no adversity other than her lack of skill, which she improved upon with practice. My sister never knew hardship or difficulty. She was the daughter of a High Lord and Warden of the North. Lyanna never had to use her ability to rise to a challenge; she could dissipate it with the advantage of her station. It mattered little if she chose to exercise it, she had the power just from the sheer fact that she was a noblewoman. You saw a fierce warrior woman who had been untried by any type of true resistance."

Ned observed the King as he spoke. The man's brows lowered, his face in repose much like his nephew Jae's when he is in deep thought. This might be the last time he would have to speak his peace to Rhaegar regarding the past, honestly, so he decided to continue.

"However, in your possession right before you, there was a woman who grew up with similar privilege. It seems as though she spent most of her life fighting The Stranger, who seemed intent on taking her to his realm."

Ned noticed the man take a step back as though he had been done a violence. His eyes widening just a bit. In the darkness, Ned wondered if he imagined it.

"It appears as though Queen Elia could not escape her misfortunes; in both health and in marriage. Her standing held no weight against the Old Gods or the new. They cared not that she was the Princess of Dorne or the Princess Consort of the Crown Prince."

"Yet she has come out the victor; every time she was set to battle against one of the capricious wishes of the Gods. She had done this before you had married, and it seems to have continued after you had wedded, and she endures to do so today. The woman may not have lifted a weapon before, but those lessons can be learned, just as it seems Lyanna may have learned in the aftermath of your marriage."

The men could hear the shouts from the wedding feast. It seems there is a desire for a Dornish song. They remained where they are both lost in their own thoughts. Ned felt so tired. He sighed out his despair. 

"I do not know if this prophecy is true. It sounds like madness to me. But if it were real and you were looking for a woman to bring forth your Visenya, a true warrior, it seems fate saw what you could not, what you were too blinded by Lyanna to see. Like Robert, you saw what you wanted. You had your Warrior Queen, your Grace. The right woman gave you your Visenya, tis a shame that this thought never occurred to you before we all bore the consequences of your _oversight_." 

Having nothing more to say and needing some time to reconcile himself before presenting himself to Ashara, Ned decided to leave.

"In the end, your Grace, we are bound to each other. I will hold my words on my feelings should any future grandchildren come to ask my judgment. I will not lie. I will state facts, but I will hold my opinions to myself. Let them judge you, for they will. It serves me no purpose to malign you. You have done enough harm to yourself, and that awareness will hurt them. I will not contribute additional pains upon them. With that said, note I do it for them, and them only."

Rhaegar dips his head towards Ned. A form of acknowledgement...or, perhaps acceptance. 

"I have heard it said before that Lord Stark speaks little and only when he must. I must say that there is much bite in your words. I won't argue the merits of them. We both know that this conversation has been in the works for a long time. I suppose after today we just couldn't pretend any longer."

"I suppose not."

"For what it is worth, Lord Stark, and I understand it may be worth nothing to you at this point; I am sorry. Sorry to so many people for so many things. I am resigned to this fate, which is fine for it is of my own making, but it doesn't absolve me from issuing the apology."

Ned had little to say to that. Hadn't he told his sons that a man can make mistakes, and if he was aware of them, then he should apologize and try to make amends. Try as he might, he just can't seem to merge that advice with Rhaegar or his sister. 

"Your words and sentiments are noted, your Grace." Ned held himself tensely together. This conversation needed to end. He needs to find a balm as the discussion has ripped at his emotions, making him feel raw.

Indigo eyes met gray ones. A silent conversation exchanged—a cementing of sorts between them an accord for the sake of the future.

"I suppose we should retire soon. We leave for Winterfell in less than a sennight. There is much to do before then." The King declared.

"Yes, we do. My people are looking forward to celebrating the marriage of my heir. They are comforted by the knowledge that Robb and Rhaenys will wed again under the weirwood tree. A real union of fire and ice blessed by our Gods. 

The barb was there in his words, but not planted with harmful intent. There was no getting around their past. 

"I bid you a good night, Lord Stark."

"May you entertain the same. Good evening, your Grace."

Ned returned to the feast to find Ashara trying to teach his son Rickon a standard Dornish dance. The view made him smile. His eyes spied his other children, some dancing, talking, laughing. As he sat, he looked around, he thought about his family. The ones from his past, the present, and those who are soon to be born. 

He was aware there was nothing he could do for the family that had long passed or for those who no longer were. Still, he would do his best to ensure that the family who resides in the here and now will endure no matter what Winter may bring.

*****

Having dismissed her ladies-in-waiting, Daenerys sat in the gardens of her Stormland home, reading the raven from her brother the King.

_My Dearest Sister,_

_I have sent a similarly worded letter to the heads of each House, but I thought to pen this one in my hand for you._

_Rhaenys' weddings were festive affairs, though I will admit each ceremony brought me closer to having to leave her behind in Winterfell. I did not care for the feeling of leaving her there. I wasn't ready. We hadn't enough time, but then that was through no fault of her own. She was touched by the thoughtfulness of your letter and gift. If you have not received a message saying so, then I am sure one is on its way. As we have arrived in the Captial, our mother is in the process of moving her household to Storm's End. Rest assured, you will see her soon._

_It pleases me as a King, but more so as a father, to announce that Aegon will remain my Crown Prince. After many conversations, from all who have a stake in this decision, I agreed that Aegon would marry Elia Dayne from Dorne._ While I know you are aware of her situation, most are not. She is the recognized daughter of a Great House, and now that Dorne is not a part of our Kingdom, she will tie us to them. The Prince of Dorne has made it very clear to my council and me that Lady Lia is dear to him and his family, and that she carries the hope and power of Dorne behind her. I think the implied threat was directed more to my small council than towards me, but with Doran, I am not always so sure. I hope that Aegon will be able to bring Dorne back, but I do not know if this is something he wants to do. The loss of them is my fault. It is my legacy, and I do not see my son being willing to undo that if it means undermining his Dornish roots to elevate his Targaryen ones. Not in this regard, but then only time will tell, I suppose. 

_Prince Jaehaerys will marry Sansa Stark from the North. He is willing to forfeit being King should Aegon fall. If I weren't so sure that Aegon would succeed, I'd be fearful of such a declaration. His future good-father has granted him Sea Dragon Point. Fitting, don't you think. A future military installation to serve as a deterrent for the Iron Islands. I am speaking with my Masters of Ships to work with Jae on military sea training as well. A robust military might on land and sea. Jae seeks to go North, and Lyanna will go with him to create a household for him to bring his future bride. I admit I am worried about Lyanna traveling North. It is not something she has done since she left decades ago. However, she has assured me that since they are traveling by land through the Westerlands and then by sea, that I should not worry too much. She, as a mother, must see her son settled and claimed that it was her duty and her desire. Though I must admit, I worry less about her physical person and more about her feelings. She is a strong woman, but as you know, she is quite sensitive as well. She holds much within her...and it isn't always her cross to bear._

_Once Jae and Sansa wed, they will begin the military service program I wrote to you about before. A new opportunity, open to all children of the realm, regardless of their station. Dae has expressed a lot of interest in this plan as well._

_As you are assuredly aware, Prince Aemon will marry Lady Margaery Tyrell of the Reach. Her brother has chosen to serve as a Kingsguard to Queen Lyanna, his sister's future good-mother. He will accompany both Lyanna and Jae North. I am sure the cooler weather will lend itself to cooler heads, or one would hope. Young Humfrey Hightower has officially asked for Princess Visenya's hand. I have accepted it on her behalf. Sometimes one finds it prudent to create secondary measures to guarantee fealty during uncertain times. Wouldn't you agree? Your thoughts on this matter might prove insightful. Tentative talks of a duly ceremony have begun. I will leave that to the three Queens to decide: Elia, Lyanna, and Olenna._

_Prince Daeron has asked Lord Mooton to marry Lady Eleanor of the Riverlands. The man may be weak, but his brother wasn't. A robust and brave knight he was. As his sons have perished due to illness, his daughter is his heir. I like to think the anemic personality that defines the Lord will be lost with the infusion of Daeron blood. My son comes from sturdy stock, as does Lady Mooton barring her father, of course._

_I find that my life is in the midst of a change in seasons. I imagine you felt the same when you held your babes for the first time. It pains me that I must wait even longer to see your face and that of your children; by Mother's, Lyanna's, and Aemon's descriptions, they sound delightful._

_Though your newfound motherhood leaves you unable to travel home, I am aware that you are still mourning a profound loss. One that only you can truly understand. Know that I recognize I carry a certain degree of responsibility for it. If you find yourself unable to forgive my transgression, then I will understand and find a way to accept it._

_I miss you, Sister. I love you, and always remember that you will always have a home with me._

_Your loving brother,_

_Rhaegar_

Daenerys hadn't noticed when the tears began to sting her eyes until she found herself rapidly blinking to keep the tears from falling. Taking a deep breath, she thought about her brother's letter. 

Her nephew is marrying Eddard Stark's bastard. Hmmm...what is it with the men in her family and Stark women. I mean, look at Jae. She shakes her head. If there was ever an opportunity to slip in an illegitimate woman as the wife of a King, then she thought this would be the time. 

More than half the realm was pleased that Elia and her children had returned.

Aegon brings in Dorne. 

The North would not rise against the Crown. They have a princess and a prince in their region. 

The Riverlands are tied to the Starks and now will have another attachment to the Crown through Daeron's marriage. 

Viserys brings the Westerlands.

She holds the Stormlands for her children. 

While under compulsion, the Tyrell's and therefore the Reach are bound by marriage to a Prince. However, Hightower's marriage to the Princess ensures that if the Tyrells try to enlist the help of their bannermen to go against the Crown, then all they have to do is look and see who will become the ruling family once they fail. For failure is assured if the Crownlands, Westerlands, Stormlands, Dorne, Riverlands, and the North descend on their doorstep. 

It was smart of her brother to allow Visenya's attachment to Hightower and not to a Valeman. The Tyrell's had been faithful to the Targaryens. Still, they seemed to deviate from that code when they concealed Renly and Loras relationship while pushing their own agenda. Perhaps her thoughts on that particular matter are unreliable as her feelings are still unsettled. No Brother, she thinks, I do not have any enlightening ideas to offer you in this regard.

Perhaps she can offer a little help as well. She has two sons, and there are two regions without a firm connection to the Crown. Maybe the newly born daughter of Harrold Arryn and his wife Myranda securing the Vale through Ormund. 

With further consideration, she thought that either House Rykker or Velaryon from the Crownlands could be connected through Mychal. Now that she considers it, Rosby is still without a Lord after the death of old Gyles Rosby; perhaps her son can begin a new House in the Crownlands. 

Or perhaps Ormund marries a Stormlander, and Mychal marries Lord Arryn's daughter. 

Dany thinks about penning the suggestion to her brother. 

As she feels very little love for her former husband's home, she recognizes that her children, especially Ormund, will be bound to it. When the time comes that they are men capable of ruling their House, she will be glad to leave this place. Her eyes gaze East, and she wonders that life might be like on the other side of the ocean. Until then, she will find comfort in her children and the stories she reads from her brother on his journeys to Essos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is almost the end, all we have is just one more interlude and then the epilogue. 
> 
> My goal is to wrap this all up by Sunday/Monday (depending on your time zone). I am feeling writer's burnout, and it's riding me hard, but I do think I have one more solid interlude in me. Thankfully, the epilogue is written.


	19. Interlude VI: The Ballad of Rhaegar the Mistaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar contemplates his marriages and reconciles his wants with the boundaries of his reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, though I do love them so. 
> 
> Forewarning, I took some liberties with Yi-Ti since the realm is entrenched in Far East cultural influences. If you can, just suspend and enjoy it.
> 
>   
> This chapter is **rated M**
> 
>  **FYI, there is some description of death, forced loss of pregnancy/miscarriage, and mention of sexual assault at the beginning of this chapter. If these are trigger warnings for you, then please read this next part carefully.**
> 
> I always consider whether the use of such a scene is essential to the story, and in this chapter, I found that it was. I am not adding anything new per se. We know this assault happens in canon.
> 
> I just wanted to be mindful of readers who would like to avoid such topics. You can skip the scene starting at the beginning of **"The room had split"** and ending at **"He tore at his own armor"**. These phrases will be bolded in the story. Once you begin to read the chapter, you'll have an idea of where this is going. The physical violence in the scene isn't too detailed, and the sexual assault isn't described in any detail at all.
> 
> But it is there, so please be mindful of that before you proceed.
> 
> ~Winter

“Where are they?” Rhaegar yells to Arthur as they are fighting a couple of Lannister soldiers they discovered on the steps. 

“They must still be in the family wing,” Arthur replied as Dawn pierced where his attacker’s heart once beat with life. 

“I must get to them,” Rhaegar screams as he swings his sword to land a killing blow against his opponent. 

They could hear men coming up from behind them. Neither knowing if they were friend or foe. Arthur gripped Rhaegar’s shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Find Elia and the children. I will stay. Go!”

Rhaegar needed no more encouragement than that. He ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time, an almost impossible feat when dressed in armor. As he approached the landing, he saw a door close to Elia’s chamber. He ran to her room, but time felt as though it moved so slowly.

When he was finally before his wife’s entrance, he pushed open the ornate doors and ran inside—blinded by the bright sun that flooded the room. No, this wasn’t right. Elia’s chamber didn’t have this kind of light. No, Lyanna’s room in the Tower did. 

Rhaegar made a quick scan of the room once his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He was back in Dorne, back in Lyanna’s chamber. He didn’t understand, Rhaegar was in Kings Landing. He hadn’t gone to Dorne after the Trident. This time he made a different choice. He should be in the Red Keep to save Elia and the children. Not Dorne.

Lyanna sat by a cradle cooing at the babe below as though she could not hear him. He shouted out her name, but she remained unmoved. Rhaegar turned to exit the door from whence he came for that would surely take him back to castle so that he could find Elia. He found himself slamming against a door that was not there. 

To his naked eye, the doorway was open, but he could not get through as though a transparent barrier were in place. He could see a young Jaime Lannister running, his cloak billowing behind him as he streaked past. Ser Arthur had arrived, and he and Ser Jaime they fought the growing crowd of men who began to fill the hall. 

Rhaegar kept screaming for them to turn around, but no one heard him. To his horror, he watched as they were cut down. Then silence reigned before he saw Sers Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch. He saw Lorch walk into his children’s rooms, and Clegane walked through him into Elia’s.

“NO, NO, NO! STAY AWAY FROM MY CHILDREN.”

 **The room had split.** He was on the Tower side and could not make it past the barrier to Elia. He saw his wife garbed in one of the gowns she fancied wearing during the latter stage of her pregnancies. Elia was scared, but she stood tall as she trembled before this giant of a man. 

“ELIA!” Rhaegar screamed. 

He ran the length of the barrier to try to find some opening to get to his wife. Lorch came to the door. The blood on his armor and covering his hands--the blood of his children. _Rhaenys. Aegon. Oh Gods, his babes._ The vile man sent Clegane a noncommitted shrug before bolstering himself against the wall, a smirk on his face.

Clegane returned his attentions to his wife, who now held a weighted candle holder before her. Her only weapon of defense, and then she saw Lorch. The blood fled from her face. She cried out. By now, Rhaegar is beating manically against this invisible wall. 

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

“I WILL KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? I WILL MAKE YOU HURT. I WILL MAKE YOU PLEAD FOR DEATH BEFORE YOU DIE, THEN I WILL EXTEND YOUR MISERY. DO YOU HEAR ME?” He sounded mad and hysterical to his own ears--enraged to the point that spittle foamed at his mouth. 

Rhaegar didn’t have attention to give Lya, but his mind momentarily drifted to why was she unaware of the situation? No, he returned his attention to Elia. She was of paramount concern at the moment; the one in danger.

The Mountain reached for his wife by her hair and threw her against the wall, belly first. Her hands went up and slammed against the wall as though she were trying to break a fall—the holder slipping from her grasp. There was blood everywhere. It dripped down her face until it began to fall from between her legs. _Visenya._

Elia was thrown on the bed. He could hear her cries. Pain. Terror. Resignation. The beast assaulted her. As his wife lay dying and his daughter bled away. Rhaegar couldn’t find a way back. No matter what he tried. That wall was there, and he couldn’t get through. He couldn’t save them. 

Once the Mountain was done, Lorch handed him a dagger, and the man plunged it into her heart, and Rhaegar felt it so keenly as though it had been stabbed into his. 

**He tore at his armor** for he was sure there would be a bloody wound where his heart was. Once he saw his tunic, there was a large bloodstain where there hadn’t been one before. Tearing his shirt in half, he sees the wound. As he thought, there on his chest was a stab wound in his heart. The blood fell copiously. Rhaegar’s looked up to see Elia’s once more. Her head turned with her dying gaze on his person--a single tear slipping from her eyes to the bed. His body began to convulse as he stood upright.

“Elia--” He whispered, voice broken. But she was gone. He knew she was gone. 

“It will be alright, Rhaegar. I am here.”

A soft pair of hand pushed a thick cloth against his fatal injury. Rheagar didn’t have to look down to see the person with him. It wasn’t Elia. It was Lyanna. He just couldn’t bring himself to turn away, for if he did, then that would be admitting that Rhaegar failed them, and he was not ready to do that. If he turned away, then he was sure he would lose them forever.

“I lost them.”

“I know, my Love, and I am sorry for it.”

“I can’t be here.”

“You must. If you go, then we will be alone.”

Pressing against his chest now was his babe, Jaehaerys. 

“I failed, Lya.” He sobbed as he continued to take in the devastating scene before him.

“I hurt for you, my Love, but this moment can’t last forever. I may not be able to replace what you’ve lost, but perhaps I can help heal you, just a little.”

With those words said, while holding his son Rhaegar collapsed into his young wife’s arms. It was in her arms that he raged at the Gods with tears and sobs, and it continued that way...

... until he awoke from this nightmare.

*****

Rhaegar returned to the realm of wakefulness on a trembled inhalation. He gasped as he remembered how inconsolable he felt in those final moments of the dream. This one was bad, but not particularly new. After having many like it for decades, he recognized the signal that any chance for sleep would not return to him on this night. 

A careful turn of his head allowed him to see that Lyanna had not stirred. He was grateful for that. 

Firstly, he hated his inability to keep his subconscious in line and that it came out in such a way that drew her attention. Secondly, she was departing with Jaehaerys for Sea Dragon Point on the morrow. His wife and son were leaving with a set of skilled designers and master builders to survey the location for Jaehaerys' new family seat. There is a dwelling currently there, but for his plan, well, there is a need for expansion. 

With the ease of longtime practice, Rhaegar climbed out of his bed and quietly dons this sleeping pants, which Visenya had gifted him on his last name day. The article of clothing hung low on his hips. When he shared such concerns with Elia, she had just laughed at him and confirmed that was the style in Dorne. He just shook his head at that, but now he appreciates the fit. His clothing tightly bound him all day, except when he can change and wear these pants in his apartment or that of one of his wives. 

Reaching for a decanter of Riverland wine, he decided to forgo the cup and walked out to the balcony attached to Lyanna’s bedroom. It was impossible at this hour to see the view from here, but if he closed his eyes, he could visualize the woods. It was the best possible angle to witness such a sight from the Keep. For Elia, it was the sea that reminded her of home, but for Lyanna, it was the woods. That sight brought her as close to the nature she craved since she moved to the South. 

Turning away from the balcony wall, Rhaegar seats himself on one of the large chairs. He takes a long swig from the vessel. The wine was tarter than he had expected, and he had to let out a cough. He quiets himself down immediately, for he did not want to wake Lya. Taking one more sip, he lowered the tankard on the ground. Sitting forward, he held his head in his hands. 

The dream. 

He could never say one version of it was worse than another. Every episode wrecked him, and he needed this time to try and put himself together. Over the years, Lyanna was a vital part of that process, but tonight he just wanted to be alone. Clearly, the Gods had other plans.

“Rhaegar, what is wrong?”

Rhaegar looked up at his wife. She dressed in a sleeveless night shift that matched the color of his eyes, her hair in a loose braid that rested over her shoulder. Lyanna looked tired and concerned. Her face no longer held the soft curves of youth. He hadn’t noticed that about her when they were younger. Standing before him was a woman grown with a grown woman’s beauty.

“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep tis all. You should head back to bed for you to have a big day tomorrow.”

Lyanna’s eyes observed the sight he made. Her eyes tracked the wine decanter on the ground, his forward posture, his face, his eyes, his voice. It all told her that there was more to his inability to sleep than he had shared. In addition to her beauty, even in her exhausted state, her mind is sharp. 

His wife stands before him and picks up the jug. She places it on the table beside him and then walks to a basin where she fills it with water and brings it over with a cloth in her hand. Placing the bowl on the table, she drops the material into the water, removes it carefully as she wrings the additional water out. Her long slender fingers push him to sit back, allowing for her to sit on one of his legs.

Lyanna takes the cloth and begins to clean his face gently. The material was refreshing, and it felt good. Rhaegar felt ashamed as he usually did after one of these episodes. This woman should not have to care for him.

These dreams are the Gods way of punishing him. Lyanna has demons that ride her; these are his. 

She continued to moisten the towel and proceeds to soothe him until much time had passed. He places his hand on the one that has the cloth and pulls her arm away. They both stare at each other as the silence between them is loud with the words currently being unspoken but said regardless.

“Are you ready to tell me about the dream?”

Rhaegar sighed, for it seemed as though she was not going to let this go, and right now, he had very little strength to push the issue.

“No matter what I do, Lyanna, I can never undo my mistakes; not even in my dreams is such an intent possible. Shouldn’t I be able to achieve that empty wish there, in a realm that is solely controlled by me.”

His wife’s slender fingers caressed his hair, a finger pushing his loose locks away from his face. 

“Perhaps instead of attempting to resolve the multitudes of problems you are trying to undo, there is only one event in history you need to correct. In finding and addressing that one, then it stands to reason, it will correct the rest.”

Rhaegar’s eyes watched as she spoke with a pragmatic tone. He can’t bring himself to disagree but, at the same time, knows uttering an acknowledgment would hurt her. He has no desire to be cruel and admitting that the one event which he needed to undo--was her.

“I must admit it feels much like a betrayal of sorts to consider the option.” He brings his hand to the nape of her neck, tugging gently at her hair while his finger tries to find purchase. 

Her soft smile nearly undid him. He wanted to weep. The memory of his sleep dream clawing at his peace of mind. 

“I am so sorry, Lyanna.” Rhaegar felt the burn of tears as they swelled, but had not fallen.

She shrugged her shoulders. Her watery gaze fixed on his. The slight tremble of her pursed lips was pulled into a false smile. For who, he was not sure; was it for him or herself. 

“I am too. You are not alone in your goal to undo the past in one's dreams. I have a feeling to reverse it all; we must both go back to the start of it.” 

Her tears spilled over, and she squeezed her eyes tightly to stop the unstoppable. Rhaegar knew because he was sure his face mirrored a similar sate. 

“I hadn’t meant anything untowardly or held an ulterior scheme when I gifted you those roses. I was taken by your bravery and thought that was the only way to honor it publicly.”

Taking the cloth from her, he begins to wash her tears away. Over the years, they have learned to be honest with each other, blatantly so. But to deny their start though right it is to do so seemed cruel. To go back means that the love they built and the children they made and raised would never have been.

There seems to be a harsh consequence either way, well sharp for him. He either wishes that there was no Lyanna and the children they had not been born or in desiring them still, he puts Elia and their children in mortal danger. If he hadn’t known what he and Lyanna would have grown to be, then this would not be so difficult, but he does know, so it is painful to reconcile.

But the truth is they both wished they could take back and begin again.

Even with the knowledge of how much he has come to love her and their sons, and his awareness of how she grew to love him, Rhaegar must admit that if he could go back, he would have taken his bounty and crowned Elia. 

His Northern Rose rests her head against his, her hands cupping his face. 

“I know that. I knew that then. I have always been aware of it. I was a foolish girl. You have spent all these years mourning something you had. When the reality of what I had stupidly committed myself to became evident--I was ill-prepared for all of it. It wasn’t what I wanted for my life.”

Rhaegar knew that. In those first years---Gods how she struggled. The way she looked longingly over the balconies made him speak to Arthur regarding her Kingsguard and their placements when guarding her. 

“I pushed the notion of Robert away, but then I found myself running towards a parallel path. My resistance wasn't so much about who Robert was, but what he represented. I chafed against that because, for the first time in my life, I couldn’t see my way out. I do not know if he would have changed, but I do not think to be his wife would have been so bad; not when compared to the damage that came from the fire we started.”

Lyanna reached over for the wine. She drank heartedly in several long swallows. Tarter wines have always been her favorite, he thinks. Then his mind begins to catalog all the small bits of information he knows about this woman.

Letting out a deep sigh, Rhaegar pulls her closer to him. She wraps her arms around his neck as she rests her head on top of his. Their breaths both begin to follow the same pattern, a long-learned skill they mastered years ago. 

“We can’t undo, though. Not truly, not ever, regardless of how much we want to will it so.” Rhaegar whispered as to lessen the offense of his words.

“No, we can’t.”

“Our path hasn’t been easy, nor has it always been a good one. We may not have done our duty to those we had been sworn to, but you have been a good wife to me, Lyanna. I am undeserving of that honor, never doubt that you have done your duty to our children and me, and in time to the realm.”

She released a quiet sob, her arms hugging him tightly to her. Rhaegar found his body responding in kind as he wrapped his arms around her waist. He spoke his truth to her. Whatever they were—what they are now is far from where they had been. 

“And you have grown into being a good husband, father, and king. I know the discovery of Elia has thrown that into question over the years, understandably so. There is so much there that I do know not how to start unpacking that. She and I have come to terms with the past and the future. My children and hers have found their way to each other, but no one can’t say it didn’t start because of you.”

“Even if they hold me at a distance, it will be worth it if they find genuine affection in each other.”

“I do not foresee another Dance; so, you should celebrate that success, my Love.”

“Matters with Elia are not as clear as I fear. My concern is whatever may arise between she and I will break this accord you have seemed to have formed. That peace is better for the children and the Court.”

Lyanna pulled away far enough to pull him into her gray gaze. Her sad expression resigned yet determined.

“Hmmm...I do not know where her heart lies regarding you, and if I did, I probably would not tell you. Your marriage with her and the dynamics within it is not for me to ponder, deliberate, or judge. What I can say is I will be here, Rhaegar, and trust that whatever you and she resolved to be, that Elia and I, with some readjustment time, will find our balance once again.”

Rhaegar took a moment to consider her words. She was right. There were no guarantees regarding what his and Elia's marriage would be. They might continue as they are or move forward, but in this relationship with the woman in his arms, two fractured people had found a way to mend themselves together—warped as they might be. 

He nodded his head to acknowledge the resolve in her words.

“Regardless of the outcome, we will always have a deep affection for each other.” He murmurs as his eyes track her face; her cheek cupped in his palm. 

“Be that as it may.” She whispers.

“Be that as it may.” He echoes just before he pulls her in for a gentle, heartfelt kiss on her lips.

*****

The next day saw his household reconfigure upon the departure of Lyanna and Jaehaerys. As it stood, Rhaneys was at Winterfell with her new husband. Daeron has gone to the Stormlands with his grandmother to visit with Daenerys. Aegon, Aemon, and Visenya are his only children who remain in the castle as preparations must begin for their upcoming nuptials.

The Dornish contingent has departed as well, along with all members of House Dayne. The intention being that Aegon and Lia marry soon. He imagines he will see Elia's family soon enough. A tolerable situation for all those present at best.

As for the North, there was much discussion about Jaehaerys and Sansa's wedding. Winterfell will coordinate matters between Lyanna and Connington. A tentative date for the ceremony to be in six-moons; early enough that the summer snows wouldn't have yet to arrive, making travel possible. 

At present, there are fewer Houses at Court as many have spent enough time away coming to the Capital for Rhaenys wedding, and for some staying away longer by traveling with the Crown to Winterfell, for the second ceremony blessed by the Old Gods of the North. In all honesty, Rhaegar was surprised by the number of Houses from the South that had gone North. It was a rare sight indeed.

In a fortnight, Lord Yohn Royce will join his council as his Hand; a decision that upset his old friend greatly for Jon Connington hadn't thought he brought Rhaegar disappointment with his disposition. He knew Jon wasn't endeared to by most, but he was loyal to Rhaegar. It is no secret to him of how others spoke about Jon and the alternative reasons for his loyalty and devotion. He was aware but never felt the need to address it as the man always maintained boundaries of platonic friendship. Jon was a good friend to him, and he didn't want him to leave thinking that his choice to change Hands came from dissatisfaction in Jon's ability.

For now, his home was _quieter_. Life as a king will never make for complete silence, but the quiet was good. 

When he heard a soft knock at his door, he felt an overwhelming rush of hope and trepidation. When Lyanna and Jae rode away, Elia had bent over to whisper in his ear that _since Lyanna had gone, and the castle seemed calmer that perhaps tonight would be the right time to speak--about the future._

He knew it was Elia, so he offered no pretense, no surprise of her visit at his door.

"Come, my Dornish Queen."

Elia walked through the door. Her smile evident and serene and bestowed on him. 

"Would you like a glass?" He gestured to a Westerland fig wine he knew she enjoyed. A gift from their good-sister, Jayne. 

"Fig wine?"

"Of course."

"Ah, then I'd gladly take a cup." Her eyes lit up at their exchange. 

As he turned to pour her a drink, he took a moment to notice the dress she wore, different from the dress she wore earlier that morning. A sari; in the colors of a sunset: gold, orange, and pink. He noticed a hint of dark green found in her shirt and necklace. She looked lovely, breathtakingly so.

She was seated on a long divan by the time he turned to her, cup in hand. Elia appeared comfortable in his space. With her legs crossed, hands in repose resting on her knee, she sat patiently for Rhaegar to arrive. Looking at her, he thought Elia's presence felt right. Their fingers touched, and a spark surprised them both when he passed the cup of wine to her. Both of them laughed softly at the moment. 

Elia patted the space next to her, and Rhaegar acquiesced to her request that he sit beside her. He sat, sitting forward, resting his arm on his knees, drink dangling from his fingers between his legs. His eyes never leaving her face. 

After taking a drink from her cup, Elia leaned over to place the object on the table before them. Her tongue carefully wet her lips. It was then that Rhaegar could see some tension in her brow and near her eyes and mouth. He saw more than heard her deep inhalation before she spoke.

"I suppose it is time we spoke. Past aside, you have been most patient in waiting for me to feel ready for such a conversation. Your letter..."

"Asked you a question. It was not a simple one. If I wanted an answer, then I wanted one based on sincere thought, not a defensive reaction."

Elia averted her gaze, her eyes looking towards the hearth that was unlit but was surrounded by sconces to illuminate the darkened chamber. He sees her pull out a well-worn piece of parchment from her gown. He immediately recognizes it as the letter he sent to her in Dorne. 

With sad eyes, the woman beside him stares at the missive she holds in her hand.

_"Dear Elia,_

_Much was said between us before you left for Dorne. I have thought often about that night, about you, and about how I have failed you and, in turn, failed us._

_My past should caution you away from me, but it is my deepest desire, Elia, that you can see how I have changed--how I live those changes daily because they are now a part of who I am. These are not words I say to mitigate my poor judgments. I mention them because if there is any chance that you still love me as I love you, then I am pleading, no, I am begging you, Elia, to let me in--to give me a chance to be what I should have been since our inception; to let us be us again._

_I know that I do not deserve it, and we can't be what we were, but maybe with some undeserved grace, you'll allow me another chance to build a life with you--on our terms._

_Know I write this with no expectation that you will agree; all I send is my eternal hope. Either way, you decide, my Dornish Sun, I will pray you don't completely turn me away, and on occasion, you'll still let me bask in your warmth._

_From the sorriest man who was the greatest of fools,_

_-R"_

Without unfolding the parchment, she had recited his letter--word for word. Her voice was steady until she ended her recitation on a whisper. 

The letter came from his hand, but to hear her read it aloud, well, it moved him; more so than it did when he wrote it. The fact that she knew these words, his words by heart, terrified him. A feeling he has not felt in a long time.

"Your letter, Rhaegar, it was more than just a complicated answer. It required me to examine parts of myself I had thought long past and healed. This letter, this request forced me to acknowledge truths I hadn't realized existed. _This letter undid me Rhaegar_ , and I took so long to respond because it took me this much time to reassemble myself in a way that fits right for the woman I now am and not the woman I used to be."

The tears in her eyes held until one lone drop slipped down her face to stop at the corner of her lip. Elia lowered her head and quickly wiped it away. 

Before he wrote to her, he had thought long and hard about doing so. He didn't want to hurt Elia, but he felt by not addressing them and their future, he was doing just that. In his mind, he thought they could only continue with each other in complete honesty. For so many of his days, before penning the note, he tore his self apart, trying to figure out if sending it was the right thing to do.

As he sat beside her, he now wondered if he made another grave mistake. He took a chance at comforting her, moving to sit closer to her; Rhaegar took her hand in his--lacing their fingers together like they did when they were a young couple. Elia did not pull away, so he considered that a positive sign.

With the appearance of confidence he did not have, Rhaegar asked her how this newly assembled Elia felt about him.

"Truth?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Always." His gaze was sincere, his voice clear.

Her deep sigh made the chain of her nose ring move softly. The movement caught his eye. It was a lovely piece he had commissioned, which he gifted to her upon her return from Dorne. He remembered her soft expression and small smile upon receiving it. 

"A long time ago, I found love with you. It was unexpected and not guaranteed for people of our station. A political match that is what we were, but along the way, I did grow to love you--deeply, profoundly. Being your wife felt less like a duty because I had those feelings. Our marriage felt very real to me. But it wasn't like that for you. The recognition of your love was born from the horrendous tragedy, which came when you decided to run away with Lyanna. I do not say this to incite a divide between us, but it is a fact I can't ignore. My supposed death and that of our children--that was the catalyst that brought you such awareness. We can't say that knowledge does not impact who we are in the present."

She grew to love Rhaegar, and he hadn't seen it until it was too late. The lateness was an event; he instigated with his youthful arrogance and wilfulness. That knowledge alone should be all the answer he requires. As he takes in all his conversations and observations, Rhaegar can't deny that their past--that, that one instance makes anything else than what they are infeasible.

"My life after I left all of this was hard, yes. Not the daily mechanics of it all. I was a Princess, and I had the support of my family. We were not destitute, but I didn't know who I was after I fled. My world had imploded in the most violent of ways. The love I thought I had; that we had for each other--would have been enough for you never to hurt me the way you did. It was a rude awakening to learn differently. I never thought I'd find love again. Not after that, but I did."

Rhaegar felt a thick knot at his throat. His mouth dry-no moisture to be found. Forcing himself to clear his throat, he managed to say one name.

"Jaime."

A blind man would still be able to see how her eyes warmed, and her smile grew upon hearing the man's name.

"Yes. What I share next is not said to hurt you, but for you to understand why I hold this stance. I do not assume to know the depths of your passions for Lyanna, nor do I require or need your assessment of them. My mention serves to help you find a parallel if there is one."

She released a deep breath. As difficult as this was to hear, Rhaegar imagined it wasn't easy for her to speak. Elia is direct, but it is not her way to be intentionally unkind. He gently squeezed her fingers. She sent him a small smile before continuing. 

"Jaime and I were both in dark places, and we found the healing power of Dorne, of family, and friendship. My love for him was subtle, much like it had started with you. Our friendship was the bases of our companionship, again much like us. Until one day, we noticed each other differently. It was Jaime who first saw a change in how he had considered me. I followed not too far behind. Love grew slowly when both of us were unaware, but when we recognized it and acknowledged to ourselves and each other, well..."

Elia paused. Her dark eyes were tracking his face. A pool he could get lost in if she would allow it. Rhaegar noted her appearance. He could tell she surrounded by her memories, and a part of him was jealous of that, for he was sure she'd never had such an expression for him. 

The pause was growing, and though he felt he would not like her reply, he prompted, "Well, what?"

"We--we were incendiary. We were unlike any other expressions of love I had ever experienced in my entire life, and I'm a mother." 

With her free hand, Elia patted her chest where her heart resides. She strengthened the grip his hand with the other.

"It was--I was different in that love. It felt real and substantial; it brought me comfort while having the ability to unravel me, there were moments when it was too much to bear and then times when I felt we hadn't had enough of each other."

The tears slipped unfiltered. Rhaegar raised his other hand to her cheek, his thumb wiping away her tears. 

"The love didn't come with traumas we inflicted on each other. We were unencumbered. This type of love, Rhaegar, I believe it existed because we both knew we loved each other, and there were no insurmountable obstacles between us. I do not think it could have worked any other way."

She rested her free hand on his heart. Rhaegar's jaw subtle trembled. The stinging at his eyes heald his tears to beckon. He had lost her.

"We don't have that, Elia," Rheagar whispered, his thumb caressing a cheek that no longer held tears.

"No, my Love, we don't." Elia patted his chest softly.

Rhaegar turned his head away so that she would not see the devastation he felt upon hearing her words. He thought about his nightmare from the night before. _He couldn’t find a way back. No matter what he tried. That wall was there, and he couldn’t get through._

Taking a deep, wet breath of his own, Rhaegar returned his indigo gaze towards Elia. He hoped to present an attitude of tempered disappointment paired with acceptance. The expression on his wife made him think he had fallen short of that goal.

"Oh, Rhaegar. You will never know how much I wish things differently. I love you. I truly do. If I didn't, you wouldn't' have the power to make me feel so much for you. But even if I could move past you and Lyanna, I can't move past him, and I can't forget the woman I have become because of it."

She rested her head against his. For a moment, he thought she was shaking, but it slowly dawns on him that the person quaking was--him. Bringing his feelings back under control, Rhaegar pulled back far enough to see Elia. His Elia, with all the different parts that make her. Her eyes are damp but clear, she is sad but not discomfited; her smile--the one he remembers from their younger years--genuinely graced her lips once again.

He wasn't aware he was nodding until she tucked a thick lock of hair behind his ear after it had hidden his gaze from hers. 

"In my mind, I had prepared myself for rejection, but my heart had a different expectation. That, however, is not for you to bear. I will not pretend that I am not at a loss for words. If we can't go back and we can't move forward as we once were, then what is to become of us. What are we to each other? What do you want us to be?"

"I suppose to an extent we remain as we are--married in the eyes of the Faith. I am one of your Queens, and I will do my duty to that role. Lyanna and I have found a way to work with each other that needn't change. We are parents to children who are grown; soon, they will all be wed and beginning families of their own. I have grown to care for you against my better judgment, but then it is that judgment that has seen the ways you have changed, allowing the feelings to materialize. You care for me very much of that I am aware."

"So we move forward as allies--friends." The word _friends_ nearly sticking in his throat.

Elia smiled at him once again. His breath caught upon seeing her expression. It was different from the looks she has given him since their reunification. 

"In a way, yes. Our lives are too intertwined for us not to build more memories, Rhaegar--good ones, just not passionate ones."

"There is warmth and affection too."

"Yes, and that helps. We might not recapture what we could have been, but there is no need to live what existence we have left in turmoil when none resides. In time Aegon will take on more of your responsibilities, and Lia will take on more of mine and Lyanna's. Soon we will have grandchildren, and I want to watch them grow as much as I can. My path might keep me here at times, but it will slowly diverge and pull me away--to the North, the Reach, and Dorne. So until The Stranger comes, we move on together, but apart." 

"What if I wanted to join you on your path from time to time?" He wasn't sure of what her response would be. 

Elia tilted her head as she considered his request.

"Hmmm...I don't see why not."

Rhaegar drew her into his arms; resting his head on top of hers, he held her tightly. This woman who admits to caring for him; _but who won't live--in love with him._

He slowly lowered himself down the length of the divan, pulling Elia as well. They readjusted with on his arms pillowing his head and Elia's head resting on his chest. Her arm around his waist, his hand in her hair, their legs intertwined. A give and take of breath, his inhalation, her exhalation until they found their rhythm. Back and forth, take and give, in and out. 

The mood in the chamber was sorrowful; Rhaegar would not lie to himself about that. He wanted the pain--need it. When he was alone, he could let his emotions run their course, but for now, he will keep those feelings to himself. 

"You know when I was younger; my maester had given me a text about a group of people that were of Yi-Tish descendent. They believed that when death came, we had the opportunity to go back to the world of the living. How you returned was determined by the choices you had made during your life."

"So if you made poor choices..." He felt Elia's finger playing absently with a loose lacing on his tunic.

"Your return wasn't a good one, but every chance at a life lived offers you the opportunity to do good. If you are determined and fortunate enough, you can return as something better than you once were. 

Elia turned so that she rested her chin on his chest, her fingers abandoned the lacing and ran through is hair instead; that sea of darkness that held her eyes pinning him still--waiting to consume him. He found himself holding his breath. Gods, what a way to go, he mused.

"Do you believe such things?"

"I do not know it to be a truth, just that others believe it. A more agreeable idea than The Stranger comes, and that is all there is. For a man who has made plenty of mistakes as I have Elia, the design almost serves as a comfort."

"But why? I imagine if such a thing were real, then your return and those after would not be pleasant. I know you will not agree, and many would stand by your position, but once you serve your time in this life, it is okay to let it go Rhaegar. Your new lives can't undo your past. A torturous life won't make forgiveness."

Rhaegar thought about what Elia said. She wasn't wrong; it won't' make forgiveness, but perhaps it is not for him to decide when the Gods find he has endured enough for his errors. They may require a life of everyone lost in the rebellion, but maybe--just maybe if he serves his time just so...

"Perhaps not, but maybe they might give us another chance at finding and falling together. For that opportunity, I think it worth the gamble."

Elia released a trembled breath. Her grip in his hair tightened. 

"Oh, Rhaegar." Her soft laugh nudge against him. "If that is the case, then it might be a long time till then, Love."

Rhaegar found a dark chuckle slipping past his resistance. 

"That is probably so. I imagine until then you will be well-loved by another, Elia Martell."

Her eyes shone, and her smile bloomed; it brought forth a long-buried agony to witness. Rhaegar swallowed the pressure that had built in the back of his throat once again. 

"Gods, Rhaegar, I sure hope so."

"This time just isn't our time, it seems, but if there is a next time. I won't lose sight of it as I did. I will not stray. I will not forget. I will be worthy of it."

A tense moment laid between them. Elia's hand came to his face. Her long fingers were tracing this cheek, his nose, his jaw, his lips.

"Well, if the Gods find you worthy, then I look forward to _finding and falling together with you_ , Rhaegar Targaryen." 

Their lips came together in the most memorable fashion. In their way, they were saying goodbye to what was and what could never be in this lifetime. A soul-rendering loss, he had only himself to blame. But at the same time, there was hope that there could be a time when all the damage didn't exist, and they could try again. 

There had been a time she loved him as fiercely as he had loved her now, but his love hadn't matched hers then. Cross-purpose they seem to be in this life. He can only pray that there is an afterlife, but in the event, there isn't, he will take whatever warmth and consideration bestowed on him by this woman in the time they have left together--in the world of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had two playlists running quietly in the background as I wrote this chapter. They sum up the intention of each passage. 
> 
> -R+L Playlist: Same Mistake by James Blunt, By Your Side by Sade, Both Hands by Ani Defranco
> 
> -R+E Playlist: It Was by Chely Wright, The Winner Takes it All by ABBA, This Years Love by David Gray
> 
> I'm scared to ask. 😅


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve years have passed since the wedding of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen to Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell. Ashara considered the changes that have occurred over the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing...but the joy of playing with these characters.
> 
> Please note this epilogue is coming from one character's POV.

Ashara looks down from the balcony and out onto the rose garden. She sees her dearest friend, and her daughter's good-mother, looking at their shared grandchildren as they run away—a young Valyrian looking boy with younger twin sisters who carried their Dornish roots in their coloring. Einar, Nysa, and Asta flee as their uncle, Ser Brandon, was hot on their heels as they ran out of the gardens. 

A shadow in the shape of a dragon follows them. Knowing his children, it looks as though Aegon has sent his dragon, an enormous golden breast with startling indigo eyes named Tanwen, to monitor his little ones. 

It has been 11 years since dragons have returned to the world.

It had started with the hatching of Rhaenys's egg shortly after the birth of hers and Robb's first child. Her dragon, Burkhard, was here not so long ago. A magnificent creature with deep purple scales and an orange underbelly. Raised in the cold of the North, the dragon finds Dorne's climate too hot. Usually, it spends much of its time away from Rhae when she comes to visit.

The last dragon to hatch belonged to Visenya. Sosthenes was a white dragon, and only in its eyes did you see one orb in a violet hue while the other was golden. That dragon was a familiar sight in Dorne as it could be seen flying over the sea from Oldtown to Sunspear and beyond. A water dragon that one is, she thought, as it has been seen diving into the sea for a meal. 

Every time she sees one, it feels like the first time. Not only did they live in a world where dragons existed, now they lived in an age of dragon riders. It felt like they were in some fantastical reality, but then Ashara was reminded when she saw good-son climb off his mount. Or when Visenya flies by on her dragon just for the sheer pleasure of doing so, and when she visits the North and Rhaenys fly off to Sea Dragon Point to melt the ice forming around the naval ships. 

She leans back to feel the solid steadiness of her husband, Lord Eddard Stark. The most honorable of men, a man who would not listen to her as she tried to push him away once again. None was more shocked than Ashara was when one day she found him at her gates, with nothing but the clothes on his back, a horse, and sword. 

As she currently splits her time between Kings Landing, where she serves as Queen Elia's closest companion, and Starfall. Ned has become the Warden of the North, who spends more of his time in the South as he transferred more authority to his son, who resides in Winterfell. She is the Lady of Winterfell, an empty title for the true Lady is her dearest Rhaenys.

A man so rigidly defined by duty, now choose to live a life that allows him to spend time with both she and Lia and their grandchildren--though they are too young to know that he is their true grandfather. He also has the freedom to travel North to see Robb's, Sansa's, and Rickon's families when he desires for them to do so. It's a duty of a different kind she thinks, but one they fulfill together.

Robb and Rhaenys had recently flown back to Winterfell after an extended visit. Their children Torrhen, Viseryon, Flynn, and Alisa Stark, are a combination of their parents in looks and personality. They left Rickon and his Mormont wife, once he arrived from Sea Dragon's Point--where he serves as an instructor for Jaehaerys's initiative; for there must _always be a Stark in Winterfell_. 

Once they returned to Winterfell, Rickon's family will visit along with Jaehaerys and Sansa. Ashara is surprised by how little bitterness she has towards the young woman who is the living image of another who once took Ned's attention away--who had Ned when she had needed him so. She is looking forward to spending some quality time with her stepdaughter. They do enjoy exploring the local markets together, a task both Ned and Jae rather avoid. 

The Keep will be full, and Ashara is thankful that her nephew and his wife are so accommodating. Soon they will depart for Sunspear, and their home will return to the quiet they are accustomed to. 

Jaehaerys and Sansa's Little Ned and Minisa are always a pleasure. But like most youngsters, they can be a bit much when they are in the presence of Aegon and Lia's children. Close the cousins are, she muses. That knowledge serves as a comfort for her, and she prays to the Gods that they remain so.

As Ned embraces her tightly, angling his chin into the side of her neck. She smiles as she thinks about her upcoming visit to Kings Landing for Prince Aemon's marriage to the soon-to-be-former Lady Mrycella Stackspear. 

The unfortunate death of Lady Margaery in the battle of the birthing bed was unexpected by those around her. Though it took her longer to conceive, this second pregnancy seemed to progress as well as her first; until she went into labor. Princess Margaery fell into a birthing fever, and a few days after, she slipped away into death. While their marriage was not a love match, they came to a friendly accord. Aemon was stunned by the loss of his wife. It has been two years since her death, and now Aemon plans to marry a young widowed mother from the Westerlands, with his two daughters in attendance, Alyana and Margret, and her daughter, Cerenna.

Ashara looks forward to catching up with Visenya as she frequently travels with her husband, Ser Humfrey, and their children Rhaella and Garmund. Arya accompanies them as well. Her stepdaughter is very much a member of the Hightower household. The stories these two women share are unlike any Ashara could conjure. They leave her simultaneously, shocked and enthralled.

The tales scandalize Daeron's sweet wife Eleanor, but they only serve to rival his own stories as he voyages on occasion with his Uncle Viserys. While she knows the man would like to see more of the East, his commitment to the military institution he has begun in the Riverlands--modeled after the success Jaehaerys has found in the North, keeps him very busy, as well as his two sons Maeker and Myles.

Ashara begins to wonder if Daenerys will be there in the company of a Daario Naharis. A sell-sword Daeron met on his travel. A man he was able to lure away with coin to teach the young men in his school alternative ways to do battle. The youngest Prince stated that if their students all learn how to fight the same, then there is little surprise on the battlefield and less chance of survival. As the years passed, it wasn't unusual to learn that Princess Daenerys was spending an extended visit in the Riverlands or that Daario Naharis was providing private tutoring to her young sons when they occasionally visit with her.

Just this past year, the Lady of Storm's End traveled with Elia to Braavos, where she found a manse with a red door that seemed to catch her interest. She was moved enough to purchase it. Daenerys and Elia plan to return in the upcoming year to set up a household since, in a couple of moons, Dany's sons--who were visiting her, will leave Storm's End to return to the Houses where they are fostered. This made it the ideal time to do so while one son was in the Stormlands and his brother in the Eyrie. 

A recent raven arrived with good news from Dragonshield. It seems as if Viserys's eldest daughter, Rhaenysa, is to wed the eldest son and heir of Lady Wynafryd Manderly. Though the Lady had married a cousin herself, she had approached Viserys about creating a union between the two port cities. It seems as if they will head West for the festivities in several moons. 

The one face she will be saddened not to see would be that of the Queen Mother. The last Winter was severe, and the winter croup took the lives of many, for no one was spared, not even the royal family. The illness hit all three Queens and her brother, Lord Commander Dayne. 

Rhaegar's behavior in the Keep was common knowledge, and word had spread; there were whispers of madness. His entire focus had turned to those women and, at times--his friend. Many days and nights, he spent at their bedsides until Aegon had to threaten to put his health at risk by sitting with them if it meant Rhaegar would rest. In the end, Rhaella and Arthur had perished, while in time, Elia and Lyanna returned to health. Over the years, her brother tried to explain why he stood by Rhaegar and how conflicted he had been. They never truly reconciled, but she was there with him when he took his last breath. Whatever they were then she couldn't define, but the little girl who once idolized her brother knew she couldn't let him die alone.

In the years that have passed, Lyanna has not entered Dorne, and to her knowledge, neither has she asked. When she isn't in the Capital, Lyanna usually takes the time to visit with her children's families or with Daenerys--with Ser Loras most times by her side. As it currently stands, she is in Kings Landing battling with Lady Cersei Marbrand on the plans for the upcoming ceremony. 

While it is widely understood that Lyanna politely tolerated Margaery, and while Aemon had a reasonable marriage with her, it was discovered that his true preference for a wife laid in the Westerland. In the form of Lady Myrcella, and the shrewd Lady Marbrand knew it. 

She had learned from Elia that Aemon thought Lady Myrcella bright and kind. A lady who was easy to talk to. He had gathered that she must have been smarter than most because she never seemed to want nothing from him but his friendship. She also had no compulsion to hold back her opinions on his bad manners. That had been a novel sensation for him, since all his life, someone always had a motivation for befriending him and dismissed his more discourteous behavior. Yet he could never detect Myrcella's hidden objective.

Frankly neither could she for the young woman in question was not like her mother. It's quite apparent when Lady Marbrand speaks; one could find a trace expression of tempered exasperation evident on Lady Myrcella's face. 

It seems Aemon and Myrcella maintained friendly correspondence over the years, after marriages and starting families. Upon the death of Margaery and Lady Myrcella's husband, they found comfort in their shared circumstances. With both unattached, it seems as if the matured Prince refused to let this woman slip away from him as she had once before.

While a second marriage for both, she has discovered there have been some challenges. Ashara did not wish Lady Marbrand on anyone. Well, anyone except Queen Lyanna Targaryen. She just could not bring herself to forgive Ned's sister completely, but she can be courteous. 

Looking down below, she considers the couple before her. 

Since passing on more responsibility to Aegon over the last seven years, Rhaegar has returned more frequently to Dorne if this is where his wife can be found. Over the years, his queens have prepared _Princess Lia_ to act in their stead, freeing Elia to return yearly to see all her children and grandchildren as they come to reconnect with their Dornish roots. If this is where Elia is to be, then Rhaegar can be found as well. 

If Ashara were honest, she thinks the sister of her heart occasionally enjoys having her husband come in search of her. They are freer here than in his realm. They don't have to carry the burden of ruling; it seems.

Now it feels like Elia isn't running away from someone, but rather towards something. A moment they both want to experience together. Once again, her eyes sweep the garden. She can see Rhaegar walking towards Elia, a granddaughter in each arm and a grandson hanging on his back, childish laughter coming from below. 

Rhaegar stops before her, his gaze hot and consuming, Ashara doesn't know how Elia does not combust, but then she is of the sun. As the children speak endlessly, Rhaegar lowers his head to Elia's, words Ashara cannot hear spoken, soft smiles bestowed. 

Elia reaches for one of their granddaughter's, freeing Rhaegar's hands. He reaches for her face, drawing her close, and with such tenderness that almost forces Ashara to turn away, he kisses her friend tenderly on her forehead. 

"I don't know what to make of that man." Ned's somber northern voice rumbles at her ear.

"I know. You are not alone in that regard." Ashara squeezes Ned's hands.

"He loves her, and it appears she still cares for him even after Lyanna...with Lyanna. I don't understand it." She feels his head shake in confusion, dismay, disapproval.

Ashara breathes in deeply as she watches her oldest friend walk towards the Keep with her husband and grandchildren. "Perhaps it's not for us to understand or to remark upon. If this is the path they have chosen, then maybe the only judgment to be made is left up to them and the Gods."

Ned turns her around and grips her face in his hands. "I think you might be right on that account." 

His lip press against hers. Once again, the time that was lost between them disappears, as they share a kiss. 

Ashara pulls away to rest her head on Ned's chest. He holds her tightly as they both look out towards the setting sun. While she knows Ned loves her and had never stopped, she acknowledges he loved Catelyn too. That knowledge no longer pains her as it once did. 

Such moments like these made Ashara realize that some ends feel fixed, but that in hindsight, they really might just be a dream deferred. Grateful for what time they have together, Ashara has no intention of wasting whatever they have left.

***The end***

Notes:  
-Dany & Daario Naharis: I just loved the chemistry between show Dany and Daario, but not book. I decided to bring them together as two grown adults rather than a grown man with a teen. So keep that in mind--these are two grown-ups having a mature relationship.

Dragon names:  
-Aegon's Tanwen: means white fire  
-Rhaenys's Burkhard: means brave protector  
-Visenya's Sosthenes: healthy and strong, of secure strength, powerful savior, strong savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, this is it! The final chapter in part 6 of this series. This part concludes the story. I want to thank you for taking the time to read this. It has been said before, but I will repeat it, this was supposed to be a three-chapter short fic, but this morphed into more, and that was mainly in part to reader encouragement. 
> 
> While I know some may not have always agreed with the directions I may have taken, I have found that even in disagreement, readers have more often than not been respectful with constructive criticism and overwhelmingly supportive. A big thank you to everyone who has been with me on this journey from the start, and for those who hopped on the train along the way. 
> 
> My goal is to take a brain-break for a bit before I start Part 7. This part serves to look at Rhaegar's reign and that of his children from a historical perspective. Dragons, prophecies, oh my! You'll get to see what happens to some of your favorite characters. We will see how the past impacts the current understanding of history within this universe. It is meant to be humorous and lighthearted. 
> 
> Until then, stay safe, stay healthy, and if you are in mandatory lockdown...stay sane!

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to keep comments constructive and helpful. 
> 
> If you like the story drop some kudos, subscribe, and/or bookmark.


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